The Calling
by BrowsingAbout
Summary: Plagued with memories of the past, Vinnie discovers that the friends from his past desperately need his help in the present. Vinnie-centric with original characters. Direct sequel to The Searcher. Rated T to be on the safe side, as there is some violence/torture.
1. Chapter 1

**The Calling**

**A.N. **Hello! I've had this story for quite awhile, and decided to start posting it in case anyone is interested in the continuation of The Searcher. This story won't make sense unless you read The Searcher first, which is my take on the origins of the war and my original characters. Occasionally, I'll use a quote from a song as a part of the narrative. The one in the prologue is from _This Time Around_ by Hanson. Enjoy!

* * *

_****__**Prologue**_

_**It's getting colder in this ditch where I lie**_

A chilling wind whistled through the chinks in the stone wall, striking the emaciated youth straight to the bone. The young martian mouse was so used to it that he barely noticed his own shivering. The ragged strips of clothing that covered him did little to fend off the cold. His fingers scraped at the hard packed floor upon which he lay, and his body tensed as he coughed deep, wracking coughs.

_**I'm feeling older, and I'm wondering why**_

His eyes, which had long ago begun to blur, stared unfocused at the dark ceiling above him. His body convulsed as he coughed. A clot of liquid choked him, and, rolling over, he managed to spit the drops from his mouth where they landed bright red against the dark ground. He fell limply back so that he was flat on the ground and gasped for air. He was barely eighteen but he felt like he was eighty. The mere act of standing and lunging, a rash decision that caused him to wince when he remembered it, had taken its toll on him.

_**I heard they told her it was tell and live or die**_

Tears burned at the martian's eyes and he closed them, gritting his teeth. Oh, Ember…the only thing in his life that kept him going…kept him sane.

_**I didn't know her but I know why she lied**_

His fingers groped in the dirt until they rested over a thin, long piece of twine. He closed his fingers over it, holding the metal peace emblem that hung from the twine. It had broken off from her neck after they ripped her away…it was all that was left. _Why didn't you just tell them the truth?_

But he knew why. He only knew her for a short time, but he knew why she would never betray her people. She was as true as gold. Was he? Had they managed to break him?

_**I didn't know her**_…

Heavy footsteps echoed down the cold, narrow corridor. His insides jerked and he held his breath.

_**But I know why…**_

The sound of footsteps stopped and he managed to turn his head. He squinted into the dimness, trying to make out the large shape on the other side of the bars. He couldn't see the details but he didn't need details to tell him who was looming over him. A heavy stench that overpowered even the filth in his cell and on his fur filtered into his nostrils.

"Hey, is this the one?"

"Yeah, that's him. I don't think he's quite as docile as we thought.

"Easy to remedy."

…_**she died.**_

He closed his eyes.

Pain shot through his body as a boot drove into his ribs. His eyes flew open and his strangled cry echoed in his cell. He rolled to his side, clutching his ribs, only to be jerked onto his knees by his long, tangled hair. His scalp burned but he gritted his teeth, struggling not to cry out again.

"I hear you tried to attack one of our guards," a voice boomed close to his face. The mouse couldn't help but cough and was struck with such a force that he jerked to the side and would have fallen if the Plutarkian wasn't gripping onto his hair.

"Here we are removing garbage from your cell, and you have the nerve to try and attack one of us. Did you think you would actually win?" The fish laughed and flung the mouse against the wall. He gasped, the wind knocked out of him. "Look at you," the voice continued mockingly. "Nothing but a pile of bones. You can't even stand up straight. You wouldn't win against a Martian squirrel. I hope you learned your lesson…but in case you didn't…"

The mouse swallowed hard and cringed as the thick, scaly hand cupped his face and pulled his head forward. A cold band encircled his neck, and he heard the sounds of metal against metal. He sensed that the Plutarkian stepped back and began to slump sideways to the ground, weak from the beating. He gasped and choked as the short chain that attached the band around his neck to the wall pulled taut, pressing the metal against his windpipe. He scrambled back into sitting position, his shaking fingers touching the metal. Mocking laughter, coming from several Plutarkians, fell on his ears.

"Not too comfortable are we?" the fish smirked, shoving the mouse with his boot. "It seems that you've been getting too at ease in your humble cell. A few weeks like this should wise you up. I hear that it's quite difficult to reach your food that way too...if you can reach it at all." Harsh laughter rang out again, but he kept still, hoping they would think he was unconscious. Just as he thought they were about to leave, he felt the smelly presence close to his face again.

"Before we leave, mousey, would you like to hear what we did to your little friend before we killed her?" The mouse drew in his breath sharply, and tried to raise his hands to his ears, but the Plutarkian's hands clamped down on his wrists, holding them still. Leaning forward he whispered words that caused him more pain than any physical punishment; words that, if he lived, would be forever branded on his mind. Finally, the Plutarkian straightened, and harsh laughter rang again before the cell door clanged shut and his tormentors strode clumsily away.

The mouse shifted his weight, trying to find a position that didn't hurt. He leaned his head back against the stone wall, tears trickling from his eyes and through his matted fur. _Ember, oh Ember_…the pain would last forever. The mouse took a few ragged breaths and instinctively began to build a wall around his mind, attempting to banish the horrifying images that the Plutarkian's cruel words created. He closed his eyes tighter and let his mind reach back into his past as it conjured up better times along with the faces of people who had been so dear, that were once so vivid. Faces floated in his mind's eye but they were vague and remote, from a joy filled life that was no longer his. His loved ones had probably joined the dead long ago. The realization brought him back to the present with a jolt, with an amplified awareness of the hopeless, broken state he was in now.

He couldn't move to see the moonlight that filtered in through a narrow crack near the ceiling, but he knew that it was there. A low sound rumbled in the distance, but he wasn't sure if it was an approaching storm or the sounds of battle. He drew a deep, rattling breath and closed his eyes again, begging for sleep.

_Help me. Take me out of here._ Usually, he let that plea run through his mind every night, and it was always directed toward his friends, as if willing them to come to free him. But he knew his time was up. No one would come.

This time, he directed the plea to his Maker.

_Help me. Take me out of here. __Let me die__._

* * *

Vinnie opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling. He sat up and groggily rubbed his hand over his face. As he did so, a hard object rolled over his face, and he jumped, gazing blankly at his hands. The white mouse sighed when he realized he had been clutching a certain stone pendant in his sleep, and leaned over to drop it safely in the metal box that was sitting close by. Straightening, he squinted at the clock, and when he saw that it was far too early to even consider getting up without getting a beating from his sleeping bros, he fell back on his cot.

Though it was the middle of the night, Vinnie went quickly from a bleary-eyed state to alertness. He blinked at the ceiling for awhile, waiting as fragments of the dream that had awoken him floated back into his mind's eye. When he began to fully recall it, he shifted restlessly, pushing it from his mind.

The effects of Karbunkle's mind trick had mostly ebbed as the chemicals left his body, but the damage had been done. Names and faces that he had long stifled had been brought to the surface, and had remained. A quiet moment, a lull in the conversation, a dream could bring a sudden rush of memories that flitted through his mind with startling suddenness and clarity.

That in itself was disquieting for a mouse who liked to keep his mind firmly in the present. The dreams—and nightmares-were another matter entirely. His nights had been flooded with dreams that were startlingly real. Often they were memories, but occasionally they involved friends he knew but in situations that were unfamiliar to him. Trips across the sands of Mars, fighting of raids on a base, moving from hideout to hideout, laughing over rations, screaming over bodies, all were a litany of glimpses into his lost friends' lives, as if glancing through a window. He described these dreams to his bros until Throttle began looking worried and started researching the effect of mind manipulating chemicals on martians.

He had stopped telling them.

That didn't mean the dreams went away. The face from tonight's dream swam into view and Vinnie squeezed his eyes shut, banishing the vision.

"Aw, he's too young to be in the war," Vinnie muttered, turning to his side. "It's just a stupid dream. Doesn't mean a thing. Too many hot dogs or something."

"Vinnie, shut up," Throttle mumbled from his cot. Vinnie sighed and settled back against his pillow. He lifted the purple pendant and studied the facets against the weak light of the moon, and then abruptly shoved it under his pillow. He shut his eyes, pushing the memories back to where they belonged. He couldn't get through each day by living in the past. That hadn't worked before, and it wouldn't work now.

He took a deep breath and tried to think of something boring to lull him to sleep. It worked quickly, for there were lots of things that the energetic mouse found boring.

When he woke up the next morning, he characteristically launched himself into a new day, and the dream was forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

The black void of space stretched out as far as the eye could see, broken only by the smoldering light of the stars. If any radar or spaceship happened to be panning the vast expanse at the moment, they would have seen that the stretch was also broken by a small, sleek spacecraft making steady progress from the direction of Mars, heading toward Earth. But no one else was taking a space cruise at the moment, and the spacecraft was such that it could not show up on any Earth-made radar.

The slender martian female sat back in her seat, content with the fact that she was unseen, content with the fact that her plan was going smoothly so far, but not quite content with much else. Her original plan had run into a small hitch, so she had been forced to put a backup plan into effect. This scheme involved doing things that bent some rules and that was sure to result in the anger of a certain leader of her branch of the Freedom Fighters. But at this stage, the mouse was unconcerned about stepping on some toes.

Actually, she never worried about stepping on toes.

"Home base to cruiser, come in! Are you there?" The mouse sighed as the loud, barking voice split the silence of the ship. She swiveled her chair to face the vid com, frowning at the angry face.

"You!" cried the voice. "How dare you take this ship without checking with me? That is along the lines of treason." The female rolled her eyes but remained silent. "You have stepped far out of line and when you come back you are-!" The voice was abruptly cut short as the mouse switched off the vidcom. She wasn't in the mood for verbal fencing. Her energy was better focused elsewhere.

The mouse looked up at a beeping sound, and leaned forward to switch a large monitor. She whistled softly to herself as the beautiful planet, painted in browns, greens, whites, and blues began to loom in front of her. She opened a keypad and swiftly typed the coordinates. Rising to her feet she took her two favorite blasters and charged them, then slipped them into the holsters that were slung low on her hips.

Time to get serious.

* * *

"And Modo winds up to pitch the pigskin…" rumbled the large, gray mouse as he lunged back and whipped the football down the field.

"Oomph," Throttle grunted as it drove squarely into his chest. He folded his arms over the ball and began to run. "Throttle recovers and takes the ball down the field…"

"But heeeerrree comes the Vin-Man!" Vinnie hollered in his high pitched voice. He sped up and threw his weight into his tan furred comrade. Throttle, who could usually hold up against Vinnie's lighter weight, was still out of breath from Modo's missile-like pass and stumbled to the side, the ball shooting up from his arms. Vinnie snatched it, jumped lightly over Throttle and rocketed to the other end of the field, laughing hysterically all the way. Charley Davidson rolled her eyes as she neared Quigley Field, toting a load of hot dogs and rootbeer.

"Whoever decided that it would be a good idea to introduce Vinnie to energy drinks was _not _thinking," she muttered. Though giving an already hyperactive mouse an excess of caffeine was not the smartest thing she could think of, she was secretly glad of it. Even though his mental trip to the past had been nearly a month ago, the mouse had been quieter than usual. Several times Charley had been startled by a sudden silence and would look up to see Vinnie sitting with his eyes fixed blankly to a spot on the floor. A raised voice or nudge from her or one of his bros was enough to snap him out of it, but it was still worrisome. Were there chemicals still in his body, or was he just depressed? She wasn't sure which was worse. A depressed Vinnie was baffling; a complete contradiction in terms.

Whatever the cause, a Vinnie hyped up by sugar was a little more along the lines of what she was used to, and she believed that he was truly having a good time. They had decided on a loose game of football that day, and had begrudgingly agreed to play without their bikes in order to save the field from total destruction. She chuckled when she remembered Vinnie's overly confident boasts that he was going to challenge both Throttle and Modo and _still_ beat them, even on foot! She hadn't doubted that he would actually attempt it.

Throttle and Modo hadn't doubted it either, but they were surprise that it seemed as if he might actually win.

"If he wins, Big Fella, we'll never hear the end of it," Throttle said between breaths as he and Modo pumped down the field.

"Yeah…it'll be worse than the time he won the Motocross," Modo said, wincing. Throttle shuddered and increased his speed.

"I'll try to circle around and cut him off. When I do, dive bomb him!" Throttle ordered quickly, already starting to put his plan in action. Modo nodded and, as he tried to gain on Vinnie, reflected that he should really lay off the hot dogs.

Vinnie, too bent on his impending victory, didn't see Throttle until the tan mouse was almost right in front of him.

"Whoahahaha!" Vinnie yelped, skidding to a halt. He glanced over his shoulder, his mouth opening in a wide, excited grin when he saw Modo's massive frame barrel toward him. "Whoa, danger zone! Time for Plan B!" he shouted as his bros were closing in. He leaned back and suddenly flinched. Whatever caused him to cringe didn't slow down his throwing arm…but his aim was not exactly…

"Yeow!" cried a female voice from the stands. Throttle and Modo looked, but couldn't slow down in time and Vinnie, who was planning to quickly duck out of the way, was startled and didn't dodge. The three of them went down in a painful heap on the ground, in the midst of "oomphs" and groans. Throttle was the first to disentangle himself from his bros and staggered to his feet, glad that he had been wearing a helmet.

"Ouch…Charely girl? Are you okay?" he called through gritted teeth.

"Who threw that ball?!" came her loud reply. Vinnie, still sprawled on the ground, winced and tried to smile charmingly as Charley marched over to him, a scowl marring her face.

"Sorry sweetheart," he said, trying to look innocent. "My aim was a little…"

"A little terrible? You got me square on the head? What on earth were you aiming for?" she yelled, pulling him up by his bandana.

"Um…not your head?" Charley rolled her eyes at his response, and Vinnie got to his feet.

"You're okay, right Charley ma'am?" Modo asked with his gentle concern. Charley rubbed her hand over her hair.

"Yeah, I have a hard head. But you made me drop your lunch, as usual, so you guys are outta luck." The mice groaned and Throttle shook his head.

"I'm really sorry, sweetheart," Vinnie said, a little subdued. "But guys, it wasn't my fault, I swear! This bright light flashed in my eyes and my throw went wild!"

"Bright light?" Throttle asked dryly. Charley had to snicker, despite her sore head.

"Now he's seeing lights? Guys, I'm thinking he's had enough caffeine for today."

"No, I'm serious!" Vinnie protested, his eyes wide. "It was…hey, ow!" He cut himself off, holding up a hand over his eyes. "It happened again!"

"Hold on bros, I saw it that time too," Throttle said, turning his face skyward. "It actually glinted off of Vinnie's mask…up there!" All eyes turned toward the sky, and suddenly they saw an unmistakable glint of silver hurtling down toward the field. The mice whistled for their bikes, waiting patiently on the side of the field, and Vinnie instinctively pulled Charley a bit closer. They slid on their bikes and gazed at the incoming ship.

"We weren't expecting Stoker, were we?" Charley asked from her perch on Vinnie's bike.

"I don't think so," Throttle said. "Besides, it doesn't look like his ship. It does look martian though…"

"Martian or not, it seems to have found its target!" Vinnie cried, pointing as the large form hovered over him. The mice revved their engines and swerved around, shooting toward the other end of the field.

"Quigley management will really love this," Charley muttered as chunks of dirt and sod flew up from beneath them.

"Well babe, it's that or getting ourselves squashed into the field. I don't think that'd be any prettier," called Vinnie.

"We're out of its way, let's spin around and face it!" Throttle commanded, and they skillfully swerved around until they faced the small, sleek space ship. They were closer than they thought, and were surprised that when the door dropped down, the end of the platform was just in front of them. Modo was puzzled, Throttle thoughtful, and Vinnie was simply pumped over this new turn of events. All of them were unprepared for what they saw.

Stepping from the shadows was a lone martian mouse. Though her head and hair were completely covered by a helmet, any fool could see that she was a female. She wore well fitting black pants with black boots that came to her knees. Her top was a sleeveless, black leather zip up with a high collar. A black band encircled her arm, standing out against yellowish-crème colored fur. Two leather belts, from which her holsters hung, were slung crisscrossed over her hips. Before Vinnie had time to gawk, the strange female whipped out two large blasters and pointed them straight at the mice. Shocked, the mice followed suite, whipping out their own weapons.

"Three against one, lady," Throttle said tersely. "Lay your weapons down." A low chuckle came from the depths of her helmet.

"Yes, but your friend is unarmed," she said in a strangely low and rich voice. She moved her blaster so that it was aimed straight at Charley's head. Vinnie tried to move in front of her, but she trained the other blaster on him.

"This is a very quick, accurate, and high powered machine," she said calmly. "I advise you not move outside of my will." She caught sight of Modo shifting from the one side and swiftly swung her left gun from Charley over to him and her right gun to Charley. Vinnie, though nothing ever enraged him faster than when Charley was in danger, was rather relaxed, looking at the strange female quizzically.

"Say, babe, do I know you?" he suddenly asked. Throttle and Modo glanced at him in surprise.

"Not the time to pick up a lady, Vincent," Throttle muttered under his breath. Vinnie didn't seem to hear, and Throttle suddenly noticed that the female's head was turned toward Vinnie.

"You just seem sort of familiar or something," he continued to muse. "Like…I don't know, you didn't frequent the bar in Brimstone, did you?" At that, the female made an irritated noise and swung both guns over to Vinnie, who chuckled nervously and raised his hands.

"Well, babe, a simple 'no' would be alright, I mean…" his mumble trailed off.

"You. I need you. Into the ship, now," she barked. Vinnie, despite the present danger, couldn't help a smug grin.

"Whoaho sweetheart, I know I'm a stud but we just met, I mean, I can't even remember your—."

"Not in that way, you narcissist!" the female suddenly said in a disgusted voice. She sighed heavily and, to the relief of all present, put one blaster away. She yanked off her helmet with her free hand. "I need your _help_," she stated, her eyes on Vinnie's face.

All three male jaws dropped. When she whipped off her helmet a mass of long, thick, gold tinted red curls tumbled down her back. The red was the color of the martian sands, and the scattered tints of gold caught at the sun, making the strands shimmer. Her eyes, a deep, flashing ruby color, were large and curved at the edges. Her face was beautiful even with the scowl that marred her features.

Charley surveyed the female and then looked around at the boys. _Men_, she thought, shaking her head as she caught sight of their faces. Throttle had actually dipped his sunglasses down, and even Modo, who was too much of a gentleman to actually gawk at a female, was red cheeked under his fur and rubbing the back of his neck. Though she couldn't see Vinnie's face, she could imagine the look. They had all seemed to forgotten for the moment that this beautiful female had a deadly weapon the size of their heads pointing at her.

Vinnie's reaction surprised all of them. With a loud, high pitched whoop he suddenly tore off his own helmet and shot up from his bike so quickly that Charley almost fell over. Ignoring the blaster, he lunged toward her and scooped her up in his arms, swinging her around.

"Renee!" he bellowed, laughing. The female looked at him with an expression that was somewhere between amused and annoyed. Vinnie put his hands on her shoulders and held her at an arm's length. "Renee! Sweetheart—how—when did-wow I can't believe it! I was just thinking about you! Where have you been?"

"It's a long story," the female, apparently Renee, said with a sigh. She looked at him askance. "But probably not as long as yours. Luckily, we have plenty of time to talk since you are coming with me." Her tone allowed no argument, but as everyone else was speechless with surprise, Charley decided to speak up.

"Wait a minute, he can't just-!" Silently, Renee narrowed her eyes, fingering her weapon. Vinnie quickly closed his hand over her hand and the gun, pushing the gun closer to the ground.

"Whoa, sweetheart, lay off the reflexes for a sec. Charley girl is a friend! Without her we'd still be wandering around Chicago here. And you remember Throttle and Modo right?" Renee glanced warily at the mice and the human, and slipped her blaster in her holster.

"Yes, I believe I remember you two," she said glancing over the mice. Before Modo could make a polite introduction, she turned back toward Vinnie. "No time to chat now. You really have to come with me," she insisted. Vinnie scratched his head.

"What's the rush? You just got here! Relax, Renee, I haven't seen you this wound up since Thrash and I broke in and ransacked your room." Renee raised her eyebrow.

"_Thrash_ was in on that?" she asked with a changed tone of voice.

"Well, uh…you see..." Vinnie sputtered, but then his face suddenly grew serious. "Thrash. How is he? Where is he? And what about everyone else, you know, Graven and Zebbie…are they…do you know…?" Vinnie, always quick with a good line, was suddenly finding it hard to form his questions. Renee's face softened and she allowed herself a small smile.

"Come back with me, and you'll find out," she said a little vaguely, turning slightly toward the ship. Charley saw the look on Vinnie's face and felt a flash of anger. Was she _baiting_ him?

"Whoa little lady," Throttle said, stepping off from his bike. He was angry at himself for his hesitation in speaking up and certainly wasn't going to let some hot headed female drag one third of their team off to Mars right in front of their faces. "I know you're in a rush and all, but it seems to me like you're going to have to relax a bit." Renee surveyed him and raised an eyebrow in question. "Several reasons," Throttle began, answering her silent question. "One, we're not exactly vacationing here on Earth, two, we all deserve an explanation before you try to cart our bro away, and three…well, Renee, I would be interested in hearing your story." Renee glanced up at Vinnie, who shrugged.

"I want to know what's going on, but can't we just sit and chat for a bit before traveling through space? I mean, not that I object to a pretty lady like you dragging me off, but it is kind of wild, don't you think?" Renee thought for a moment and heaved a gusty sigh.

"Oh, fine. Your _best friends_ have spoken," she replied, sending him an icy look. Vinnie raised his eyebrows, startled and Throttle and Modo suddenly felt uncomfortable. "I'll come with you, but seriously, I do need to get back sooner rather than later. This ship isn't mine, I borrowed it." She turned and held a remote up to the ship. She pressed a button, and a mirrored shield slid up over it, giving the impression that there was nothing there.

"Whew, that's settled! Man, Renee, I can't believe you're _here_! This is so random!"

"Tell me about it," she returned dryly, eyeing him as they walked down the ramp. Her stomach suddenly growled and she placed her hand over it, embarrassed. "I, uh…not much to eat in space," she said, her polished veneer wavering.

"Perfect! We'll talk over the grub, and you can have a taste of Chi-towns finest in cuisine—hot dogs and root beer!" Vinnie announced, turning on the full force of his grin and theatrically kissing his fingers like a chef. Throttle and Modo, though a little skeptical of this stranger and her attitude, mustered up some enthusiasm, and Charley smiled and shrugged.

"Do you have a bike ma'am?" Modo ventured to ask politely. Renee shook her head.

"No, I thought this was going to be quick so I left it at the base," she said vaguely. Throttle frowned, knowing that a mouse and his or her bike were not easily separated. _What is up with this chick?_ he thought.

"Why don't you ride with Vinnie?" Charley offered, sliding off of the bright red bike. "You two haven't seen each other in some time." It was her attempt at a peace offering, and Vinnie appreciated her thoughtfulness, especially since it came after Charley just sat there moments before with a blaster pointed at her head.

"Good idea sweetheart, thanks," Vinnie said, looking into her eyes. Charley winked, understanding his look and turned toward Throttle.

"Can I catch a ride with you?" she asked, and Throttle nodded with a smile. Vinnie fairly jumped on his bike and Renee slid on after him.

"Yeah, Renee, just like old times…sort of!" he called, revving his bike with a laugh. Renee chuckled faintly but quickly put her helmet on. She tightened her hold on him as they raced through the streets, and as they drove she murmured something that made Vinnie frown with confusion.

"Vinnie, you're such a punk…but I'm glad you're not dead."

Vinnie pretended not to hear, but bent low over his handlebars and had a hard time holding himself back from breaking every kind of law in his haste to get home and hear his friend's story.


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. Sorry this took so long! I feel like there's a lot of talking and back story here, but it should pick up after this. Happy reading!**

* * *

"Alright, sweetheart, time for you to have your first taste of Earth, Chicago style!" Vinnie declared, setting the bags of hotdog and root beer down on the table.

"He means Biker Mice style," Charley commented dryly to Renee. Renee said nothing and Charley felt a bit of annoyance. The cold stranger had certainly put a chill on their day of freedom. With Charley's work and Limburger's schemes, free days were few and far between.

"Have a seat, Renee ma'am," Modo said gently, pulling out a chair. Renee sat with a slight smile, which turned into a grimace when Vinnie placed the steaming hotdog, nearly drowned in condiments, before her.

"What is this?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"A hot dog with the works!" Vinnie told her proudly. "Dig in, you'll love it!" Renee cautiously took a bite and Charley had to laugh at the strange expression that crossed her face.

"Weird," Renee commented after a swallow, but continued to eat the rest of her hotdog, stealing glances at the guys who were digging in with the grace and restraint of starved pigs.

"Are they going to eat all of that? Can't they just hold off a little until I can get out of here?" Renee asked Charley impatiently. Charley snickered.

"Don't worry, it won't take them long at all," she replied. Helping herself to some food, Charley glanced at Renee. "Since we haven't been formally introduced, my name is Charley Davidson. I'm a mechanic, and I met the guys some time ago when they first crash landed here on Earth." Renee raised an eyebrow.

"Do they know many humans here?" she asked. Charley drew her brows together at the odd question.

"No, I suppose not," she said slowly. When Renee didn't respond, Charley made another attempt at conversation. "So, how long have you known the guys?" Renee sipped at her root beer.

"I've known Vinnie since grade school, when I moved from southern Mars. I lived in his neighborhood. We were both part of the same group of friends. I've only met Throttle and Modo a few times." With that, Renee took a long drink of her root beer and Charley sighed inwardly, reflecting somewhat scornfully that that was the most the mouse had said to her. She was about to try again when a chorus of belches rose up from the other end of the table.

The mice leaned back contentedly, with a pile of cartons and bags as the only thing left from their meal. Vinnie swigged his root beer, belched again, and heaved a happy sigh. Renee looked over at him with a smirk.

"It's good to see that some things never change, Vinnie," she said with a shake of her head.

"Different food, same results," Vinnie said in satisfaction. He lurched forward suddenly, slamming the chair legs on the floor, much to Charley's dismay. Lectures about the cost of furniture had apparently fallen on deaf ears. "So," he said, leaning toward Renee. "What about our friends? It's so weird…I've, uh, well, been thinking so much about everyone and wondering where you all ended up, and here you are!"

"Yes, the working of the cosmos is beyond comprehension," Renee said sardonically. Vinnie either ignored the sarcasm or didn't notice and continued gazing expectantly at Renee.

"Renee, you might want to fill us all in here," put in Throttle, also curious about the woman's history. "I haven't seen you since before the war…are you a Freedom Fighter or with army?"

"I'm much too…um, unorthodox for army, so I'm a Freedom Fighter," Renee said with a snicker. "I originally joined up with another base closer to my neighborhood. It was smaller, but we fought hard. Actually Vinnie," Renee looked pointedly at the white mouse, "you are the only one from our set who joined up under Stoker." Vinnie shrugged.

"Yeah, I went along with Throttle and Modo here. Besides, I kind of ran away from home to join the resistance, you know. Joining a base near where I lived wouldn't have been the best move." Charley looked over at Vinnie in shock, not knowing that he had run away to join the Freedom Fighters. Renee nodded at Vinnie's explanation.

"Well, I fought under Cleaver with a lot of people that you would know, Vin. But awhile ago, probably right after the last time you three were on Mars from what I've heard, both resistance teams combined into one. We would've kept fighting independently, but our base was infiltrated. Your base had been infiltrated several years before, apparently…"

"Can't quite forget that," Vinnie cut in soberly, tapping his metal mask.

"…And it just made sense to combine into a new team. Besides, the land we were focused on defending was taken by the Plutarkians. Most of the people were killed or taken prisoner." This time, when Renee looked at Vinnie, the hard indifference in her eyes was replaced by deep sadness. "My home was destroyed, and my parents died in it."

"Mine too?" Vinnie asked, struggling to look nonchalant.

"Our hometowns were destroyed, Vinnie, but people are often able to evacuate. We…we haven't found anyone, but you never know. Where there's uncertainty, there's hope."

Vinnie dropped his eyes down, an image of a woman clutching a half empty bottle flashing before his mind's eye. The woman's dull eyes reproached him.

He blinked when Charley touched his arm gently. Vinnie glanced at her and fastened on a comforting smile, and turned back to Renee, figuring the worst had to be over.

Renee sighed, and gave herself a mental shake, straightening in her chair in a business-like manner. Her eyes resumed their former coolness, as if she was determined not to let the difficult past bother her.

"I'm sorry about your parents, Renee but…well, it's good that you joined together," Vinnie said, tentatively positive. "So you know Stoker and everyone. Now, you gotta answer my questions! Is Thrash fighting with you? What about Graven? Come on, babe, dish!" Vinnie cried, a bit of his old eagerness creeping back into his voice.

"Oddly enough, Thrash is partly why I'm here. Shall I tell my story now, or do you need some more background?" Renee asked, raising her eyebrow and looking in Throttle's direction. Throttle raised his hands defensively.

"No protest from me, just keep in mind that not everyone here knows who you're talking about," Throttle pointed out, and Charley hid a smile, knowing that he was being considerate of her. Renee nodded and looked at the table, gathering her thoughts.

"Okay, then. Well, does everyone here know my boyfriend, Thrash?"

"He was one of my best friends, Charley girl. You remember me telling you about him, right? After the whole…you know, memory incident," Vinnie interjected, nudging Charley, who nodded in response. Vinnie shook his head, stoked over the fact that he was actually going to get his questions answered…for better or worse, he would know the fate of his closest friends.

"My mission here is partly a personal matter, as it mostly concerns Thrash. Thrash joined up with me under Cleaver, and fought under Stoker and Carbine as well but now…you see, Thrash is missing. It seems that he left us." Silence fell in the little room. Vinnie gaped at her, and then abruptly jumped to his feet.

"No way," he said firmly. "Thrash would never do something like that. He would have to be dead before ditching, unless there was a darn good reason."

"Well, there is a darn good reason and if you sit down I'll tell you!" Renee said with some exasperation. Vinnie sat abruptly and Renee, after shooting him a look that would've been comical had this situation not been so tense, continued her story.

"Well, in any case, Thrash did run off, but you're right, Vinnie, it was for a good reason. For awhile, all of us had been doing pretty well, or as well as you can be when you're fighting for your life everyday. Thrash hadn't suffered any personal loss, and even had his cousin Graven with him. The two of them have always worked so well together, and were able to keep each other sane in this whole mess of war. I guess things first got complicated when Zebbie joined up at our base, a little over a year ago."

"Zebbie?!" Vinnie exclaimed, leaning forward in shock. A quick flash of last night's nightmare jumped to his mind. _No way. Can't be…it's just a coincidence._

Throttle and Modo looked equally surprised.

"That lil' guy is fighting?" Modo asked, raising his eyebrows. Renee blinked at them.

"You two know Zebbie?"

"Sure we do," Throttle replied for the both of them. "I mean, I don't think either of us knew him as well as you did, but I remember him. Don't forget, Modo and I sometimes hung out with your group too."

"Everyone knows Zebbie," Vinnie interjected, with a slight smile over the memories.

"I don't," Charley cut in.

"Well…on Mars. Anyway, I can't believe he joined up! He can't be old enough," Vinnie exclaimed.

"Well, the preferable age for joining is eighteen, but that has more or less been dropped, with the exception of children." Renee explained with a nod. "Zeb joined a few days after his seventeenth birthday."

"But…but…Zebbie?! I can't…that doesn't…that doesn't make any sense. He's actually fighting?"

"Well, no, he would never make much of a fighter, no matter how enthusiastic," Renee admitted after a moment's hesitation.

"Wait, can someone fill me in? Who is this kid, and what's with his name?" Charley cut in.

Zebbie," Renee informed her, "is Thrash's cousin and Graven's brother. Don't fault him for his weird name. His parents were going through a stage where they were fascinated with ancient Martian, and named him something unpronounceable, so it's more of a nickname. What can I say? He's …to know him is to love him, simple as that." Renee's stopped abruptly and took a deep breath to steady herself.

Vinnie sat frowning silently in his chair, the feeling of unease over the night before creeping back to him. He didn't like the direction this conversation was going, but snapped back to attention when Renee continued.

"While Zebbie was training, he was put to work on the technological aspect of the base. He monitored the security screens, he fixed the computers and the tracking systems, and he even patched up an occasional bike. He was good at this, and was happy to do anything to help. Thrash and Graven were happy he was staying out of the line of fire, so it seemed like it would work. When we all made the move to the new base with Stoke and Carbine, he just continued doing what he'd been doing before.

"One day, there was a skirmish nearby, and the Martian army was getting the worst of it. It was fairly important, because they were fighting for control over a small holdout, and there were innocent civilians involved. Almost all of us went to help. Zebbie, of course, stayed behind to monitor the security system." Renee drew in a breath and took a sip of her root beer before continuing.

"While we were fighting, Thrash received a distress signal on his bike. He tried to answer it, but the fighting was too heavy, and after awhile he forgot about it, figuring someone else would receive it and pick up. We ended up winning the battle and came back ready to celebrate. We came back to our base and it was…nearly destroyed. Most of the fighters had been able to escape in time, thanks to Zebbie, but…well, Thrash ran to the security room and…" Renee choked back tears with gritted teeth, her fingers wrapped tightly around her root beer bottle. "Zebbie wasn't there. We watched the security tapes. Zebbie had been ambushed and taken prisoner." Renee stopped, out of breath, and looked at her root beer bottle.

Vinnie sat, utterly speechless, and stared into space. Charley, whose heart had been wrung with sympathy over the story, took his hand. Throttle sat with his arms crossed and a frown on his face, and Modo shook his head sadly. They were all familiar with stories like this, tragedies that had written Mars' history in blood throughout the entire brutal war. Slowly, as if dragging out the story was physically painful, Renee doggedly continued.

"Thrash took this really hard. Graven took it hard too, of course, but he's always been very calm and steady, while Thrash is more passionate and, well, emotional I guess. Thrash was driven to distraction by it, and it finally caught up with him. During battle one day, he wasn't paying attention and was shot at. He would have been killed, but Graven swerved in front, intending to knock him out of the way. Instead…" Renee stopped, and looked at Vinnie, tears in her eyes. Vinnie held his breath, not wanting her to say the words.

"Graven took the full blow that was meant for Thrash. He was killed, Vinnie. I…I'm sorry."

Vinnie stood abruptly and walked over to the window, staring outside with clenched fists and gritted teeth. The group at the table watched him silently, and Charley had to restrain herself from going to him, somehow knowing that he wouldn't want that.

"Darn it, Graven," Vinnie whispered. Even though the two weren't as close as Vinnie was with Thrash, Vinnie had looked up to the older mouse and had always felt Graven's watchful, quietly guiding presence in return. When things had gone south in Vinnie's home life, Graven had been there for him. Vinnie's eyes slid shut as Graven's voice sang through his head, as vividly as if he were sitting there next to him.

"_**And we all come tumbling down…**_"

Vinnie's stomach twisted, but he steeled himself and returned to the table, his eyes lowered.

"Thrash was devastated," Renee carried on as soon as Vinnie was seated. "He already took responsibility for Zebbie by not answering the distress signal, and now his other loved one, his pillar so to speak, is dead, and he blames himself for that too. His three closest friends; gone."

"Three?" Throttle asked, perking up his ears. "Zebbie and Graven only make two."

"Zebbie, Graven, and you, Vinnie," Renee said pointedly, a bit of anger mixed in with her expression. At Vinnie's questioning look, she explained. "You three just disappeared off the face of Mars. Rumors abounded that the three best fighters of the resistance were killed in battle, had vanished forever into space, or had been captured and tortured to death. Take your pick. I, personally, bought the space idea. I guess I was close. Anyway, when Thrash joined up with the base you belonged to, he was hoping that the rumors were just that. But when you weren't there, we all figured that they were true."

"How did you find out?" Charley asked.

"When I mentioned it to Stoker recently, he was surprised and took me aside to tell me that you were alive and well on Earth, in a place called Chicago." There was a tinge of mockery in her voice that annoyed all of them, and Modo's eye flashed pink before he calmed himself. "Stoker would have told me earlier if he knew that we were friends."

"Wow, sorry sweetheart," Vinnie said, wearing a sad smile. He reached over and took her hand gently. "I wish you all knew. I didn't know that our death is still something that's spread around."

"Yeah, well, Thrash still thinks it. Anyway, after Graven was killed, he was even more avid to find Zebbie. He badgered Carbine and Stoker to put more resources into finding him, and they did for quite some time. But they never got close to finding him, and soon it was given up."

"What?" Charley cried. "They just gave up on him?" Renee looked at her squarely.

"The situation on Mars is worsening day by day. Fighters and civilians are dying. The Plutarkians have long ago given up trying to buy us out. Now they're just focused on eradicating us entirely. It's all we can do to stop bombs and gas bombs from wiping out the few remaining holdouts. I hated that we gave up on him, but I knew that we didn't have the resources. So Thrash decided to leave and take matters into his own hands, whatever the cost."

"You couldn't stop him?" Vinnie asked, and immediately wished he hadn't said it. Suddenly, with a rare perception, he remembered that Renee and Thrash had been together for years and that it was probably grating that she was unable to stop him from walking out. Seeing the flash of hurt on her face he hastily continued. "So is that why you want me to come to Mars? To drag his furry hind back?"

"Not entirely," Renee said with a snicker. "Recently I came upon some information that gave me a chance to take matters into _my_ own hands. We have a few informants floating around who drop us some news every now and again. One of them found out that a small former factory by Olympus Mons is being used by the fish heads as an information base. Apparently all of their top secret meetings happen there, and it is the location where their more important information is kept. The place is armed to the teeth, but guess who waltzed in, took the disc that has crucial information, and blew the place to smithereens?"

"What?!" all four of her listeners exclaimed. Renee actually laughed out loud at their reaction. It changed her face immensely.

"Yes, moi," she said proudly.

"How on Mars did you do that?" Throttle asked in awe.

"We'll just keep that between me and my gun," Renee said with a mysterious grin. "I'm just good." Vinnie contemplated her, intrigued. He made up his mind that he'd badger her later until she spilled it. Persistence, especially Vinnie's brand of persistence, could wear down the strongest of foes.

"So this disc…what did it have on it?" Charley asked to break the silence.

"Just what I was hoping for. One large file had a list of martian prisoners of war…and I mean every single name, since they started taking prisoners. And that, my old friend, takes me to the reason I came. See, I hoped that there would be fewer names, or a way to search for one name. But there are thousands of names, and apparently our search engine isn't compatible with their disc. It is going to take days, if not weeks, to find Zebbie's name. Right now, some new trainees are scrolling through it when they find the time, but they can't be spared for long."

"Soo…what do you want me to do about it?" Vinnie asked.

"Yeah, he has the attention span of a flea. I don't think he's going to be able to sit there and look through all those names," Charley interjected wryly. Renee drew in a deep breath and looked at Vinnie levelly.

"Thrash is wandering aimlessly somewhere, not knowing that we have the information he needs. When I go back, I can devote every spare hour to finding that name. Vinnie, if you come then you can find Thrash."

"Can't you do that, Renee ma'am?" Modo asked.

"Well, yes, I could look. But I have a feeling that even if I found him, he's not going to come back until we have some concrete information. But if you're the one who talks to him Vinnie…"

"He thinks I'm dead," Vinnie said flatly, beginning to understand. "I could convince him to come back."

"Right. And once we do find Zebbie's name, we're going to need some strong fighters to lead a group to bust him and everyone else out."

"And I am the best mamajamma on Earth _and_ Mars!" Vinnie said with a wide gin. Renee rolled her eyes, but had a smile on her face.

"So you'll come? If you can, we have to hurry. Every minute is precious." Vinnie hesitated and glanced at his bros.

"Whoa, wait a minute," Throttle said, holding up his hands. "I know you want to find your friends, and I had a soft spot for that lil' Zebbie kid too, but you really think we can spare a fighter?" Renee furrowed her brow.

"We need help. I wouldn't have come if I had been able to find Zebbie right away. Vinnie would bring help and hope."

"I want to go, sweetheart, but we're fighting quite the fight here too. I mean, I don't know, can you guys fly without a wing? Especially the best?" Vinnie asked, turning to his bros. Throttle and Modo glanced at each other and shrugged.

"Limburger has been quiet for awhile, but he always comes back. And you know, that Slimeball has always tried to separate us," Throttle mused. "He knows that we're strongest when we're three. I just don't know if it's a good idea for one third of us to go back."

"Well, why don't you all come back then?" Renee said impatiently.

"Um, that doesn't make much sense sweetheart," Vinnie snickered.

"Then just ambush this Limburger guy and take him back with you! Then you all can return to Mars for good! Heck, I'll go in there and shoot him for you!" Renee cried, whipping out her blaster.

"It's not that easy, babe," Throttle said, remembering earlier attempts to ambush the fish.

"I don't see why not!" As there was no response to this outburst, Renee tried another tactic. "It's not like you have to tell Limburger that you're one mouse down. He probably won't even know!"

"Yes, but if he found out, then he might launch something especially deadly. I don't know if we should risk Chicago over a couple of Martian mice in trouble," Throttle mused. He looked up swiftly, not meaning to sound so uncaring. Emotions—anger, frustration, sorrow—swam over Renee's features.

"Then you don't understand," she finally said bitterly. She turned from Throttle to Vinnie. "You make your own choice, Vincent. Are you coming?"

"I…I don't know, sweetheart. I can't just book on my bros, you know," Vinnie said slowly. That did it for Renee. She jumped to her feet, her ruby eyes blazing.

"Thrash had been your 'bro' for years when these two came along!" she thundered. "You made him a promise. Have you forgotten? Before the world fell apart, you told Thrash that you two would hang together through the mess, no matter what. No matter what, Vinnie! He's wandering around, thinking that you and everyone else he cares about are dead and you won't even bother to come and tell him otherwise.

"Besides, what are you _doing_ here? Hanging out, drinking root beer and playing football? Mars is dying and we're all fighting for our lives, and the three best fighters we have are sitting here, unable to conquer one, smelly foe. Well, enjoy your Earth." She suddenly reached in her pocket and flung a small object across the table. "_This_ is Mars!"

With that, before anyone could say a word in defense, Renee whirled around and grabbed the first machine she saw, which happened to be Charley's bike. She slid on it and revved it up.

"Hey!" Charley cried, rising to her feet, but Renee had already squealed out the door and around the corner, disappearing from sight.

Three mice and a human sat in stunned silence.

After a few moments, Vinnie whistled softly between his teeth.

"Whoa…" he said, trailing off, speechless for once. "Man, was she fired up! I mean, she always had a temper but…man…"

"She needs to lighten up!" Charley exclaimed, miffed at the theft of her bike. Then, as if realizing what she had said, she frowned thoughtfully. "She seems to be carrying quite a lot of bitterness."

"I'll say," Throttle agreed, chin in hand.

"Here we are bustin' our butts and she just out and said that we're wastin' our time!" Modo fumed, teeth gritted. Throttle snickered.

"Carbine doesn't even pull that on me, even when she's nagging at me to come back." Thinking about Renee's description of Mars, he grew serious. Did Carbine need them more than she let on?

"You okay, Vin?" Charley suddenly asked, looking at the unusually quiet mouse. Vinnie shook himself and stood up.

"Uh, yeah, fine. I'd better go after her, though," Vinnie said, his tone more subdued than any of them had ever heard.

"Good idea," Charley agreed. "Make sure my bike is in one piece," she added teasingly, but Vinnie didn't seem to hear her. Without his characteristic victory cry, he got on his bike and took off silently.

"Poor guy," Modo said sympathetically. "Renee certainly ruffled our tails but she did bring some pretty sad news, especially for him."

"Yeah," Throttle agreed, and then remembered the object she had hurled at them. He picked it up and examined it carefully. "Hey, it's a portable vidcom!"

"What's that?" Charley asked, looking up from the bags and cartons she was clearing from the meal.

"It's basically equivalent to a portable TV screen," Throttle explained. "You record whatever you want and it folds up into this little cylinder, and then you just press a button…" Throttle pressed a small button and sure enough, what resembled a rectangular hologram popped up before them. Charley reached out and touched it, but her hand went right through the screen.

"Whoa!" she exclaimed, drawing her hand back.

"Yeah, it only resembles a TV to a certain extent," grinned Throttle.

"Wonder what is on this one?" Modo asked, drawing near. "She seemed to want us to watch it."

"Only one way to find out," Throttle replied, and pressed another button. As they silently watched, the screen filled with the image of a small, plain looking room. It was dimly lit and from the dark walls and floor it looked to be underground. One wall of the room was rimmed with computers and other such machines. As they watched, two male mice entered the room.

One was tall and well built with reddish brown fur and long, black hair. His face was serious but kind. He was armed with several blasters, and seemed to be in a bit of a hurry. Charley drew in her breath at his large, deep blue eyes. Strength and intelligence were mirrored in the bright blue depths.

The other mouse was smaller and, though had some muscle, was not nearly as built as the other mice Charley had seen. He had the same reddish brown fur as the other mouse, but his hair was a bit shorter and a yellowish blonde. He was dressed more casually, with a green army cap perched backwards on his head, as if poking harmless fun at the Martian Army. The other mouse pointed towards the camera and the young mouse looked directly into it, his large, clear blue eyes alight with humor and friendliness.

Zebbie.

* * *

Vinnie cruised through the streets of Chicago, not enjoying the ride as he usually did. His eyes scanned the streets and alleys, and his ears were attuned to any sounds of unrest. He knew that his friend would never intentionally hurt anyone, even those she scorned, but he didn't know how reckless she would be when upset. She had changed quite a bit since he had seen her last.

But then, didn't they all? And why shouldn't she have grown angry since the outbreak of war? The security of a life with her family had been stripped from her, she had watched the friends she had grown up with die, and the mouse she loved had vanished. If Vinnie let himself, if he didn't put all of his energy in reckless stunts and wild riding, then he would probably be just as angry.

Just then he passed a small, green park. With a flash of certainty, he knew where she would be. Slowing down a bit, he pulled down one of the paths in the park and quietly rolled through, his eyes roving the trees and bushes. He caught sight of a flash of red, and turned toward a small circle of trees. Drawing a deep breath, he made his way over to the trees, got off his bike, and sat down next to her. He wisely kept his mouth shut, leaning back against the trunk and gazing up through the green leaves, glowing yellow where the sun was shining through. The leaves cast shadows that wavered over their faces.

"I miss green," Renee said tonelessly, plucking at the grass.

"That's why I figured you'd be here." Renee nodded at his statement and said nothing.

"Renee," Vinnie said, nudging her shoulder with his. "We need to talk."

* * *

"That's the security camera," the older mouse was saying, pointing to the camera as the audience watched. "It was just installed, so we can catch you if you're goofing off." Zebbie laughed at this, his grin taking up most of his face.

"So, no playing video games on the job, huh?" Graven snorted at this.

"Yeah, as if anyone has any. You know how to work this, right? That screen can give you any camera around this base, and that one can give you maps of both floors. Should anyone break in, they will show up on the maps. But no one will break in."

"Don't worry, Graven, I got it covered," Zebbie said confidently. "I should be good at it by now." Graven placed a hand on Zebbie's hat covered head and smiled gently.

"Good. I have to run; the fish heads are waiting for a beating. You take care of yourself."

"Hey, I'm not the one who's going to be ducking deadly blaster shots. _You'd_ better take care of yourself. I don't want to be the oldest kid in our family."

"You got it, lil' bro."

"Hey, Graven, hurry up!" a new voice called from the doorway. Graven rested his hand on Zebbie's shoulder, squeezed it, and with a smile turned away.

"Peace, bro," he said as he was leaving. Zebbie followed him to the doorway and waved at those outside, unseen by the camera's eye.

"Stay out of trouble!" he called with a laugh. The voices subsided and the rapt mice and human watched as he ambled his way to a chair and sat down. After studying the screens for awhile, he got up and practiced some fighting moves, then sat back down. He began singing softly to himself after a few moments, and Charley liked the clear sound of his voice. The three watched as time went by.

Suddenly, all three felt their stomachs clench as Zebbie leapt to his feet and gazed at a computer screen.

* * *

Renee listened without interrupting as Vinnie poured out his tale. He told her about how they had crash landed in Chicago, and the dismay they felt when they discovered that a Plutarkian was starting to do the same thing to Chicago as the rest of them had done to Mars. He told about some of their exploits and adventures, and the ways they had saved Chicago and Detroit from danger and destruction. Though Renee knew that he gloried in danger, she also knew that they had risked their lives numerous times for the green and blue planet.

"I guess I shouldn't have assumed you were just sitting here doing nothing," Renee admitted when he was done. "I'm sorry about that. I'll apologize to Throttle and Modo too, and Charley. I just lost my temper. I was annoyed when I first found out that you all were here, and still felt that way while I was traveling. But I was hoping then that I would land to see you heroically defending a stricken city. Instead I find out that the three guys playing around on some field were our missing heroes. That's when I started getting ticked. And you know me, when I start getting mad…"

"Ooh yeah, I know sweetheart," Vinnie said with a grin, plucking at her fiery hair. Renee chuckled, and then shook her head. She raised her eyes, alight with a pleading expression, to Vinnie's face.

"And you guys can't just ambush that fish and drag him back?" Renee asked.

"Tried that," Vinnie said, rolling his eyes. "I'm surprised we didn't bump into each other, but I guess that was before the bases combined. The stink fish got away though. That's what's so frustrating. He always gets away…or survives! Renee, the number of times he have destroyed his tower should have killed him many times over. But he just keeps slipping away, like the scaly fish he is." Renee laughed at his description, and he continued, "I mean, don't get me wrong. Whipping Plutarkian butt is fun and all, but it's kind of getting redundant."

"I guess that is frustrating," she conceded. "Well, I wish you could come. I really do. I was so beyond angry when it seemed like you just ditched Thrash like that. But I've cooled down and I get it. If you won't, you won't."

"I want to," Vinnie said sincerely. "I can't imagine what Thrash is feeling like, and poor Zebbie." Vinnie paused, and winced at the thought of him in a prison camp. The vision from the night before swam before his face, and Zebbie's stricken eyes haunted him. He hesitated, wondering if he should tell Renee what had happened to his mind so recently, but then her soft voice broke into his thoughts.

"I feel bad, because in a way I feel like I'm using Zebbie to get Thrash back. Like, look, I found him, now come back. But then sometimes when I'm trying to get to sleep, I see him there, dying or in pain, and I feel like screaming until all of the images are gone." Vinnie winced, knowing how she felt. Renee shuddered.

"Can you imagine how he felt when they ambushed him?"

* * *

"Not good, not good," Zebbie whispered, furiously typing at the keyboard. He squinted at the screen, and then darted over to another pad of buttons. He pushed a large one and leaned over what looked like a speaker. "Attention! Exit the base immediately. Base has been infiltrated, I repeat, base has been infiltrated." He went to another screen and tried to push a couple of buttons. Muttering, he pounded the screen, which apparently was not working for him, and picked up what looked like walkie talkie, tapping some other buttons at the same time.

"Thrash! Thrash, are you there? Send some fighters back to the base, we've been infiltrated. Thrash?"

Charley gasped as, unbeknownst to Zebbie, a Plutarkian and two rats crept in the room silently. They neared him, and one raised his gun. Charley wanted to scream out a warning to him, wanted so badly for this to be in the here and now, not something that had already occurred. Modo clenched his teeth and Throttle winced as Zebbie suddenly turned around. The young mouse gasped and fumbled for his blaster, but the rat rammed the butt of his gun across Zebbie's face. Zebbie gave a sharp cry of pain and tumbled to his knees, and the rat clubbed him once more on the back of his head. Zebbie fell forward and lay still. Even from far away, Charley could see the blood that trickled from the gash on his face.

"Why didn't you shoot him?" the Plutarkian demanded to know. The rat shrugged and kicked him with his booted foot.

"Aw, clubbing's my instinct. Besides, look at 'im. 'E's as good as dead. Out cold." The Plutarkian growled in response and nodded toward the computer system.

"Let's get what we came for. Hurry up!" Obediently, the rats scurried to one of the smaller computers and began typing. Throttle caught his breath and clenched his fists.

"What?" Charley asked swiftly, her eyes still on the still form of the young mouse.

"That computer probably holds all of the freedom fighter's files! Names, base locations, informants among the civilians…that's what they're after! If they have that, the resistance is done for!"

"Oh, mama…"

* * *

"Have you tried to find Thrash?" Vinnie asked, trying to get the thought of Zebbie cruelly attacked out of his head.

"Yeah. It's sort of a shame. I've been with him for years, and I can't even convince him to listen to me. I told him that if we kept on using what limited resources we have then at least we can have a better shot of getting him out if ever we found him. But Thrash claimed that Zebbie couldn't afford for him to wait around. He's devoting all of his time to finding prison camps and breaking in. He's doing a pretty good job but…" Renee pounded her fists in her lap. "We're so close! Vinnie, if we could just find Zebbie's name and where he is, then we can get Thrash back. He could combine all of his energy and the knowledge he's picked up from busting into camps with some good fighters and powerful guns and we'd get the kid back in no time. Vin, I wish you would just come."

Vinnie sat back with his eyes closed. Graven with his quiet wisdom and gentleness, Thrash with his bright idealism, and Zebbie with his cheerful innocence. Would they all be destroyed? What would be the cost to Chicago if he left?

What would be the cost to his loved ones if he didn't?

Vinnie leaned his head back on the tree trunk, reflecting that root beer and motorcycles were far less complicated.

* * *

Throttle's heart pounded as he watched the rat type away at the keyboard. Did they get the information? Why hadn't Carbine told him about this? Something like that was far more important than the Plutarkians attacking a holdout or the base. His mind raced, wondering how they could get the information back, wondering if they all had to relocate.

"Look," Modo suddenly whispered, pointing to the screen. Throttle squinted and noticed that Zebbie was stirring. His eyes opened, but he continued to lie still for a few moments. Slowly, he tilted his head back and glanced around swiftly before resuming his position. When he was content that no one was watching him, he began to inch toward the wall.

"Ah, 'ere it is!" the rat exclaimed triumphantly. "Now we just gotta copy this…" Zebbie abruptly startled them all when he lunged toward the wall and grasped the wires that gave the computer its power. Before any of them could do a thing, he ripped out the wires, sending sparks flying. The rat cried out in dismay when the computer immediately went blank.

"You little-!" He reached for his blaster, but Zebbie whipped out his own weapon. He rolled to his back and fired a shot, but it went wild and drove into the rat's shoulder instead of his chest. The other rat lunged at Zebbie, and the Plutarkian headed toward the computer, evidently deciding to take the whole thing. Zebbie barely managed to fire off another shot before the rat kicked the weapon out of Zebbie's hands. This shot, however, was not meant for any of the intruders.

The Plutarkian yelled and backed away, staring at the smoking remains of the computer screen. His angry eyes roved from the computer down to Zebbie, who was struggling under the rat's foot.

"This time I'm gonna stick to shootin' to kill," the rat growled, aiming his blaster at Zebbie's head.

"No." The rats looked up at the Plutarkian's command.

"'E shot at me!" the wounded rat cried. "Kill 'im!" The Plutarkian started to speak, but suddenly a voice crackled over the speaker.

"Zebbie? You there? We've won, we're coming home now." It was Graven's voice, and Zebbie would have yelled out if the rat didn't shove the blaster under his chin. "Zebbie? You'd better be in there, bro…are you-?" The voice was cut short as the Plutarkian shot the speaker, exploding it into pieces.

"We're done here," he said grimly.

"What are we doin' with 'im?" one rat asked. The Plutarkian glared down at the mouse and stepped near him. He shouldered the rat aside and reached down, grasping the youth by his shirt. He yanked him upright roughly, and Zebbie gasped, gritting his teeth against the pain.

"Oh, I have plans for this one. Death would be too small a consequence for crossing me," he growled. Looking around, he spied the security camera. Smirking, he turned Zebbie around and clutched the back of his shirt, pressing the gun to Zebbie's temple.

"Listen up, mice!" he shouted, lifting Zebbie up in front of the camera. Charley covered her mouth with her hand to see the ugly gash across his face, and the look of pain and fear in his eyes. "I hope you're satisfied with yourselves. This little mouse here is going to die by inches for the rest of his life. By the time we're done with him, he'll be wishing I had killed him on the spot. Hear and remember…and despair!" With a laugh, he raised the gun to the camera and fired.

The screen went blank.

Charley wiped her eyes and sat back, letting the images sink in. Modo's hands were clenched and his teeth were gritted. He kept picturing Rimfire throughout the video, and knew that he would be crazy if his beloved young nephew was in Zebbie's place. Throttle sighed heavily and stood up, walking to a small window. He stood there, arms folded, gazing out to the streets beyond. When he turned back, he sighed again.

"I think I know where they took him."

* * *

**Gah! Big chunk over! The next installment in coming soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N. This next bit is relatively quick. Thanks for the reviews and feedback, on this story and previous stories! It's been fun to get encouragement and ideas on how to tweak this, especially in the area of residual effects on Vinnie from the situation in The Searcher. Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

Vinnie finally stood, stretching his cramped legs. He reached down and pulled Renee to her feet.

"I guess we'd better get back," Vinnie said. "Charley's going to come after us. You did steal one of her favorite bikes."

"Yeah, I wasn't really thinking," Renee admitted sheepishly. "Too bad I can't stay a bit, but I really have to go. I can't wait around for you to make up your mind. The thing is…I didn't really borrow the ship…at least not with permission…"

"You stole it?" Vinnie asked laughing. "Stick it to the man, Renee!"

"It's not a habit I have," Renee protested, grinning in spite of herself. "Either way, Carbine is going to be ticked, and rightly so. That's part of why I was in a bit of a rush, and why I left my bike there. I kind of wanted to throw everyone off…stop laughing!"

But Vinnie laughed freely; giving himself a release of the tension and sorrow of the afternoon. He wrapped his arm around Renee's shoulder in a warm hug before ruffling her hair affectionately, dodging her swipes.

Still snickering, he climbed onto his bike and Renee slipped on Charley's. Renee gazed around the park for a moment, taking in the pale green leaves and verdant grass. She breathed in the freshness and finally tore herself away, following after Vinnie. The two raced home, remembering the many rides the group had taken across the wide, Martian fields and deserts.

They pulled into the garage and faced a trio of somber faces. Vinnie slipped off of his bike and Renee leaned Charley's carefully in its place. She glanced at the silent group, taking in Charley's suspiciously wet eyes. The mouse felt a stab of guilt, and wished she hadn't let her temper get the best of her.

"I'm sorry I took your bike, Charley," she said sincerely. "And I apologize to all of you for losing my temper and treating you coldly. I was just upset. I wish we could have gotten off to a better start."

"It's okay, Renee ma'am," Modo said gently. "I woulda done the same thing." Puzzled Renee looked at all of them, and then noticed the portable vidcom on the table. Understanding dawned on her, and she looked at sympathy at the sad group.

"You must have watched the security footage. I brought it in case you wanted to see it, but I guess I shouldn't have given it to you without warning you."

"That poor kid," Charley said softly. "And it must be so hard for you and Thrash too. I didn't realize." Renee nodded silently, turning her gaze to Throttle. Throttle stood a little apart from the rest, but stepped forward when he felt Renee's eyes on him.

"Renee," he said, his husky voice hushed. "Have you ever looked into Adaromn?" Renee froze, clutching her helmet, and Vinnie nearly choked on the gulp of root beer he had taken. Charley looked at all of them, puzzled.

"Where?" she asked, but no one seemed to hear.

"I never thought of it," Renee said dully. "It's so far away from us…but why on Mars would you think he's there?"

"The Plutarkian made some pretty harsh threats. If he truly wants to torture Zebbie in the way that he talked about, that would be the place." Renee nodded slowly, her face blank.

"That place is the worst place on Mars," Vinnie said in a strained voice. "Isn't it supposed to be the place where they do experiments, too?" Throttle sighed.

"If the rumors are true, then yes. From what I heard last time I was on Mars, they torture and push mice just to see how much they can take. Then they document it and when they die, well, another body to experiment on. Think of it as a fleet of Karbunkles."

"Those stinkin', twisted, piles of scales!" Modo growled, his eye glowing pink. Renee tucked her helmet under her arm shakily.

"I need to go back. Now. With or without you Vin," she said firmly. The mice and human nodded, and Vinnie suddenly rose to his feet. He had had enough of watching events roll by, of just sitting and wondering over the circumstances of his friends without doing a thing to turn the tides of fate.

And then, there was that nagging reminder that he had _seen_ this just the night before through the confusing lens of a nightmare, and the uneasy wondering of just what else he could see if he really tried.

"Throttle," Vinnie said suddenly, his tone unusually serious. "I saw this."

Throttle drew in a breath and studied his youngest brother in arms. He got the message that Vinnie was trying to convey, and also took in the funny little smile that Vinnie wore when he was halfway to fear and wanted to convince everyone else otherwise.

"Saw what?" Renee asked absently, pocketing the vidcom.

"You should talk to Stoker about it, you know," Throttle said, ignoring Renee. Vinnie lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

"Maybe."

"I don't speak guy code," Renee said shortly, checking her blasters. "Coming, or no?"

"Yeah," Vinnie said. He cleared his throat and flashed a grin at her. "Yeah, I am."

Charley bit off her cry of protest and jammed her hands in her pockets to stop herself from gripping his arm. Modo clapped a big hand heartily on Vinnie's shoulder.  
"You can't sit here and let that kid suffer," Modo said bracingly. "You go ahead and get him out. We can hold ol' fish face for awhile. Besides we scared him good last time."

"Wonder if he's reached the toddler stage yet," Throttle asked, rubbing his palms together with a wicked grin.

Vinnie smiled gratefully at them, his shoulders sagging in relief over their approval.

"Then let's go," Renee said briskly. "Do you need anything?"

"Nothing but my bike and my studly bod," Vinnie said, flexing. Renee rolled her eyes but before she could comment, Vinnie's eyes lit up. "Hey! Can we bring a case of root beer?"

"Sure!" Modo conceded, causally lifting a large, heavy case of root beer bottles to his shoulder. Charley managed a chuckle, forcing down the lump in her throat.

"That's all you need, huh? Remind me to never get stuck on a desert island with you," she said sarcastically. Vinnie gave an evil grin, but Charley quickly cut him off. "For more reasons than one."

"Root beer is a good idea though, we can drink them when we celebrate Thrash and Zebbie's returns!" Vinnie suggested optimistically. Renee nodded absently, and Charley could see by the set of her jaw and the faraway look in her eye that she was already moving on to the next step.

"One step at a time, Vincent. Let's ride," she said a little tersely, glancing expectantly at the others. The guys shrugged and revved their bikes, and Charley was quick to grab her own bike and join them.

Vinnie careened through the city, leading the rest. His voice was raised in laughter and his usual boasts and shouts, but his mind was spinning with his thoughts. He was going back to Mars…alone. It had been ages since he had ridden without his bros, or they without him. Would they be able to handle Limburger? Would he be able to handle Mars?

Mars. As he thought about leaving Throttle and Modo, he thought about returning back to people in his life that he had thought were gone. A strange feeling rolled through his stomach over the thought, and he leaned low over his handlebars. _Hang in there, Thrash. The Vin-man's making good on his promises._

To Renee's relief, they arrived at the field quickly, and after a click of her remote the ship was visible again. Renee jumped off the bike and pressed another button to lower the ramp. She began to stride toward it, but stopped short and turned to the rest of them. The hardness in her eyes softened and she smiled a bit.

"I'm sorry I didn't get the chance you know you well," she said ruefully. "I know we didn't get off to a good start. You are doing your job here, and that's good. We have to stop Plutark before they spread to any other planets."

"Aw, don't worry babe, we'll look you up when this mess is over," Throttle said warmly, flashing a smile. Renee returned the smile impulsively. _I get what Carbine sees in this guy,_ she thought with amusement.

"You take care of yourself, ma'am. And make sure to get that kid out safely," Modo said sincerely. His expression sobered a bit. "And…um…if you can say hello to a nephew of mine…his name is Rimfire…"

"Send my love to Carbine, too, if you can," Throttle added softly. Vinnie glanced at their faces and realized how much they would love to be in his place.

"I'll look some people up, bros," he said reassuringly. "And don't worry…soon we'll all be going back for good!" Charley felt a knot of fear pass through her when she thought about them leaving her for good. She looked up at Vinnie's eager face and bright eyes. What if she lost him too? He had grown somehow dearer to her ever since she had shared so much of his pain over his past. She recalled the dangers Renee had described and shuddered.

"What's wrong babe, chilly? I could warm you up," Vinnie said with a sly grin. Charley smirked.

"Trust me, I'm not that cold." When she met his eyes, she stepped off from her bike impulsively. "Though I won't say no to a goodbye hug." Renee managed not to heave an impatient sigh and Vinnie managed not to let his jaw drop with shock. Charley stepped toward him, and he wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug. He was surprised how tightly Charley returned the hug, and for a moment wished he could stay right where he was.

But they had to end it, and Charley suddenly felt her cheeks flame. Vinnie kicked at the dirt awkwardly. Pretending nonchalance, Charley punched him lightly on the shoulder before turning back toward her bike.

"Watch yourself, you big lug," she said, echoing words spoken so many times before.

"Don't worry. If he doesn't watch himself, someone will," Renee said dryly. Modo, after depositing the root beer case in the ship, slapped him on the back so heartily that he nearly fell over, and Throttle clasped his shoulder. After a few more punches and well wishes, Vinnie revved his bike and shot up the ramp, grabbing Renee by the tail as he went by. Everyone laughed, despite the tension, when the cool, confident female was jerked off of her feet and onto Vinnie's bike.

"Do that again Vinnie and I'll hang you up by your toes!" she cried. Vinnie's loud laughter echoed out from the ship. It was the last thing they heard before the ramp slid up and the door closed.

The rather forlorn trio stood and watched as the engines fired up and the ship rose into the air. With another firing of the engines, it turned and flew swiftly away toward the clouds. They watched it until it became only a bright light against the slowly darkening sky. When it disappeared, Throttle sighed.

"I think I might have to make a call to Stoker," he mused quietly.

"Gonna give him some warning?" Charley laughed, climbing onto her bike. Throttle rubbed his chin.

"Well…that, and maybe let him know about Vinnie's…what do I call them? Dreams? Flashbacks? Visions? Something just isn't right."

"Vinnie wouldn't like it," Modo said decidedly. Throttle heaved a sigh.

"No. You're right. I'll wait a few days and decide. Meanwhile, we should just lay low and see what's in store for us."

"Anyone up for some more dogs?" Modo asked, feeling like some food would cheer him up. Throttle and Charley agreed absently, and the three of them rode through the streets of Chicago without, for once, the high pitched shouts and laughter of their white furred friend.


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N. The bold and italics are quotes from a song by Radiohead entitled Optimistic. Happy reading!**

* * *

The sun was sinking low in the dust choked sky, its red rays slanting over the small, square building. The building was surrounded by a high wall, enclosing the figures moving slowly in the courtyard. Their moans and cries rose softly and was carried off by the dry wind. No one outside the wall heard their cries.

But someone on the inside did.

A lone martian mouse lay belly down on top of the square building. He crawled over to the edge of the roof and peered over into the courtyard. His dark eyes scanned the area, spying all seven Plutarkian and rat guards.

_**Flies are buzzing round my head **_

He hated all seven of them.

The mouse pulled his string of blasters close, and pulled his own gun, a sniper rifle, from where it was strapped on his back. Making sure it was on the silent setting, he carefully aimed at the first of the seven enemies. He winced as the Plutarkian he was aiming for raised his hand to strike a prisoner, a mouse who had once been a free, innocent civilian.

_**Vultures circling the dead**_

_**Picking up every last crumb**_

He fired.

The plutarkian fell before his fist did, and the prisoner, who had been expecting a blow, looked up in shock when the fish fell at his feet. _Don't say anything, don't say anything_, the mouse willed, quickly finding his next target.

"He's dead!" the martian prisoner cried. _Darn._ The mouse leapt to his feet, firing as rapidly as possible before they could spot him. A rat guard snarled and whipped out his own weapon, and the mouse ducked as bolts of hot plasma flew past him. He picked off a few Plutarkians and grunted as a plasma beam raked his shoulder. He took aim at the rat in question, and was disgusted to see that the rat had pulled a prisoner in front of him as a shield.

"Dirty little coward," he muttered, falling to one knee to avoid getting hit and thinking rapidly about his options. Thankfully, this prisoner was smart. She struggled and got one arm free long enough to drive her elbow into his stomach. His grip loosened, and she ducked. The mouse took his chance immediately, and in the split second that the prisoner's head was bowed, he fired.

The courtyard fell silent.

The mouse remained still for a moment, his eyes scanning to locate any hidden enemies. Satisfied that his job was done, he grabbed a string of blasters and a long, coiled rope. Slinging the rope and his sniper rifle over his shoulder, he easily slipped off of the roof. He landed hard in front of the small group of prisoners, and they began to chatter with excitement.

"Quiet," he said in a hushed tone. "There are more guards inside and I'm not stopping here. Here, pass this around and use it to cut off your chains," he ordered, handing around a small flare. The small group obeyed quietly, tears in most of their eyes. The mouse began to uncoil the rope, looking around for the easiest exit.

"Do you know if any of these guards carried keycards?" he asked, his eyes still on the wall that enclosed the area.

"Look out!" a female cried shrilly. The mouse whirled around and ducked as a shot flew past his head. He darted forward and lunged, throwing his entire body in a punch that knocked the plutarkian flat. As he fell, the mouse grinned and swiped the small pack of keycards that stuck out from his belt.

"Why thank you," he said with a chuckle. He pocketed the keycard and winked at the female who warned him. "And thank _you_. Now, time to get you out of here. Guards will figure out something is going on pretty quickly, so we have to hurry." Swiftly, the mouse ran to what he estimated was the lowest part of the wall. He uncoiled the rope, which had a hook on one end, and after giving it a few swings, flung it over the wall. He pulled and was glad to find that it had worked on the first try. _I'm gettin' good_, he thought with some satisfaction. He turned back toward the prisoners and located the one who looked the strongest. The mouse pulled off his sniper rifle and pressed it into the prisoner's arms.

"Now listen. When you get over that wall, you run to the closest shelter. It can be a cave or some rocks or whatever, just get there." The mouse looked squarely at the prisoner who held his rifle. "If an enemy finds you, shoot him," the mouse said, and with that made his way to the building across the enclosure.

"Wait!" one of the females called. The mouse turned back impatiently. "Are…are you the Liberator? We've heard so many tales and we hoped and hoped…so are you?" The mouse raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"Call me what you want…but my name is Thrash. Now go!" With that, Thrash turned and sped across the enclosure toward a heavy door that led into the main building. The female smiled for the first time since arriving in her nightmare, and quickly followed the others in scampering over the wall.

Thrash kicked open the door and immediately lifted his blaster, ready for an attack. When none came, he glanced around and quietly made his way through the narrow, dark corridors.

A heavy stench hit his nostrils, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from feeling sick. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness, and soon began to make out the forms of prisoners huddled behind bars. Miraculously, there wasn't a Plutarkian in sight. _Must be a meal time_, he thought with a smirk. He made his way to the other end of the corridor, and felt for a small metal box. When his fingers hit it, he took out one of the keycards and slid them through the slot until the bars slid open. _Low security,_ he thought to himself. _This place must have been thrown together recently_. He shook himself and focused his attention to the confused prisoners.

"Stay quiet and listen," he said in a loud whisper. "I'm here to bust you out, but I need to know two things. How many cells are there? Anyone?"

"A bunch," a voice faltered. "There are about two more halls of cells." Thrash cringed and went on.

"Okay then, does anyone know if there's a place where they keep bikes or vehicles of some sort?"

"Umm…"

"Hey!" Thrash spun around at the loud voice that broke the hush, and flinched to see that it was a Plutarkian. Thrash aimed and fired, but not before the Plutarkian smashed his fist into a large control panel. Within seconds, an ear splitting alarm raged through the building.

"Alright, we gotta get going! Everyone get out of your cells and go out that door there. There's a rope on the wall. If I give you a blaster, then you'd better figure out how to use it and fast! Go!" The prisoners scrambled to their feet and staggered out into the corridor. Thrash winced to see that they were thin and trembling, and he hoped that they would be able to make it. He thrust the blasters into the hands of those who looked the strongest, and when they were gone, he took off into the other corridors.

Adrenaline pumping, he raced down the hall, dodging the blasts of guns and ignoring the screams that came from the cell. He reached the end of the hall, slid the keycard through, and raised his blaster.

"I'll fry you alive mouse!" a plutarkian bellowed, and Thrash yelled as a blast singed his side. He ducked and dodged, adding his own shots to the mix. Suddenly, one of the plutarkians fell forward, and Thrash looked up, panting. A startled prisoner stood behind the fallen plutarkian, clutching a gun. Thrash managed a grin and waved him off, too out of breath to say much.

The hall was quiet now, and Thrash gave quick instructions to the small crew of prisoners, who filed out thankfully. Thrash studied every face, and almost moved on when he saw a trio of bodies huddled in one cell. His heart skipped a beat until he realized that the figures were two small children huddled around their mother.

Glancing around warily, he slipped into the cell.

"Hey, come on, time to go," he said, gesturing for them to get up. He felt his stomach sink when the children, small, bruised, and terrified, gazed up at him.

_**Big fish eat the little ones**_

Their scraped arms clung to the still body of their mother. Thrash knelt down and gently pushed them away. One boy, the older one, clutched his younger brother, who began to sniffle.

_**Big fish eat the little ones**_

Thrash shook the mother, and then reached down and felt her pulse. There was none. To make sure, he placed his hand in front of her parted mouth, but felt nothing. When he stood up, she slid to the side.

The youngest boy began to wail.

_**You can try the best you can**_

_** You can try the best you can**_

Thrash glanced around and pulled the children away. The youngest screamed, reaching out for his mother, and the older boy stood rooted to the ground, breathing hard through gritted teeth. Finally, Thrash scooped them both out and burst into the hall. He could hear sounds of the Plutarkians coming closer, and could hear blasters being fired from outside. He swore, torn with what to do. He had a mission in mind, and that mission required him to search every crevice of the place, but the two children in his arms made him hesitate.

He shouldn't have.

Both children screamed as a blaze of plasma rocketed past them. Thrash swiftly set the children down and shoved them behind him. He whipped out his blaster, but it was shot from his hands.

"You've wasted quite some time, mouse," a plutarkian growled, stepping close. "And for all of your trouble, the prisoners will be recaptured and worked twice as hard as punishment. And as for you…I'm sure we can think up something extra special." Sounds of battle raged closer, and Thrash's mind raced. Hearing a new sound, he fought a grin.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do, stink me to death?" he retorted. The plutarkian glowered and turned up the velocity of his blaster.

"I'll take you and those brats out in one shot if you aren't careful!" he threatened.

"Or not." As soon as the words left Thrash's mouth, a black and silver bike roared into the room and fired from behind. The plutarkian fell with a squeal, and Thrash laughed triumphantly.

"Nice job," he complimented, and the bike blinked in response. Before he could make his next move, a martian stumbled into the room, clutching one of the blasters that Thrash had given out.

"The place is gonna blow," he managed to say. "I saw the rats setting bombs. They'll take us all out."

"Bike," he said, addressing his loyal companion. "Carry these three to safety. Allow any martian aboard, as many as you can carry." The bike beeped in response, and Thrash scooped up the wailing children, shoving them into the prisoner's arms. "Ride my bike, and get these kids to safety. Try to find some other bikes or vehicles; the Plutarkian's often steal them and lock them up. My bike knows where to go, get everyone to follow."

"What about you? Where are you going?" The prisoner said, wrapping his tail around the kids and sliding onto the bike.

"I have someone to find." Without waiting for a response, he took off, glad to hear the peal of bike tires heading away from him.

Alone now, he raced through the final corridors. They were mostly silent, and Thrash hurt to see the number of still, lifeless forms. The building shuddered, and Thrash slipped from time to time on the greasy, filthy floor, but he never slowed.

_**You can try the best you can**_

_Come on, be here…just be here_, he found himself thinking over and over as he searched. His eyes darted every which way, peering through the gloom for a flash of blue or a glint of yellow, and he strained his ears to hear for a certain voice calling his name. He saw that some prisoners were alive and he hurriedly released them, but many were dead. None of them were who he was looking for. His stomach dropped when he turned a corner and reached a dead end.

Suddenly the building was rocked so hard that Thrash fell against the bars of a cell. He gave a sharp cry, gripping his already burned shoulder. Another blast sounded, and this time chunks of stone ceiling fell. Thrash lifted his arm to protect his head and muttered under his breath. Were there more cells? Was he missing something?

_**You can try the best you can**_

He saw a flash of blue, and his heart nearly leapt to his throat. But it was his bike, squealing into the corridor and blinking its blue lights frantically. All around him, more stone began to fall, and dust began to cloud the corridor.

"Alright, you win," Thrash conceded, leaping onto his bike. "Let's ride!" He shot through the corridors, blasting his way through the falling rubble. He swerved and skidded and all the time tried to look at every cell he passed. He saw a patch of light, and accelerated, heading toward his exit. Chunks of rock fell in front of him, but he revved his bike and soared over it.

"Almost there," he said to himself, and just then, a blast sounded that nearly split his ear drums. He lurched forward, and he and his bike were flung into a somersault as they rocketed out of the building. He managed to cling to his bike and stay seated, and they only swerved to the side when the wheels slammed into the ground. Thrash glanced behind him to see the building erupt into a ball of flame.

"Give it all you got, girl!" he cried and accelerated even more, switching gears and racing toward the wall. When they had nearly reached it, Thrash pulled back on the handles and fired the engine. The bike roared over the wall, and Thrash felt the heat of the fire as he sailed over, narrowly missing the blast.

He slammed down into the ground, but didn't slow until he was well away from the prison. Despite the disappointment that lingered in his mind, he couldn't help but give a quick shout of laughter from the rush of excitement and danger.

"Nice!" he exclaimed, patting the handle bars. "Know where the prisoners are gathered?" The bike beeped and flashed a small map on the screen between the handle bars, and Thrash studied it briefly before changing his direction. Luckily, he spied them easily, as a cluster of them huddled behind an outcropping of rock. He pulled up next to them, his heart still pounding.

"You all okay?" Thrash asked, pulling off his helmet and brushing his shoulder length brown hair out of his dark eyes. The prisoners, now free martians, looked at each other.

"We made it out," a male said, his voice carrying a note of awe and unbelief. "I can't believe we made it." Thrash managed a smile.

"I'm glad, and I see you found some bikes," he said, referring to the army issue bikes parked nearby.

"Yeah, you were right, they were sealed up in a store room," replied another martian. Thrash nodded and leaned back in his bike seat. He let his eyes pass over all of the martians, some old, some young, and two of them children. Taking a deep breath, he pressed disappointment from his mind.

"Alright, we'd better disperse before they start hunting for us. Was anyone involved in a resistance group or army of some sort?" A few of the martians raised their hands, and Thrash nodded. "Good. Can you get back to the base from here if I give you the bikes?"

"Sure, yeah," some of them said, nodding.

"Good. How about the rest of you? Anyone have a home left?" Only silence and hopeless stares. Thrash sighed inwardly. Another neighborhood lost. "Well, don't worry. I know where to put you. If you know where you're going, ride free! The rest, follow me." After giving some directions to those who were uncertain and asking if he could keep two of the army issue bikes, those with a place to go sped off, finally free.

Thrash turned back to the smaller group, and his eyes immediately dropped to the two children who had survived the ordeal. The youngest was still sniffling, and the older one was still silent.

"Alright, the kids can ride with me, and so can you," he said, pointing to the slimmest female. "I think my bike can handle the combined weight. You four can ride the two army issues. All set?" There was a soft chorus of replies, and Thrash quickly slid on his own bike, lifting one of the children and sitting him on the handlebars. He handed the other child to the female who sat down behind him. When everyone was assembled, he glanced around for pursuing enemies, and then took off.

The ride through the silent, red stretch of land was a short one. Soon they came to another cluster of rocks, where Thrash pulled to a halt.

"Wait here, don't come until I tell you," he said in a hushed voice. Leaving his bike behind, he strolled out into the open. He came to a casual stop over a plain patch of dry grass, and, with a seeming nonchalance, stamped his boot three times, paused, and then three times again. He stepped back in time for the patch of grass and the dirt around it to slowly rise up.

A martian mouse peered up at him, holding the trapdoor above his head and blinking at the brightness of the day. Thrash smiled and knelt down, but did so in a way that it looked like he was just sitting relaxed.

"I have some more for you," he said quietly. "Do you have room?"

"Yes, we have some room. It might be a little cramped, but some of the others…left us," the mouse said in a husky voice. Thrash sighed and nodded.

"I'll be right back," he promised and with a stretch, rose to his feet and ambled away, glancing around for any movement in the waste. When he reached his small group, he smiled.

"You're in luck. There's a little group of people who are living underground. They have room and supplies for all of you, but it won't be a picnic. You probably won't see the light of day until the war ends, unless you get sent out to find more supplies."

"But we'll be safe, right?" a martian asked.

"Relatively."

"I'm in." The others added their assent and Thrash nodded.

"Okay, we need to come in small groups in case someone happens upon us. You two, follow me." Taking two at a time with him, Thrash led them to the underground hideout and watched as they slipped in. Some looked relieved, and some had tears in their eyes. He didn't blame them. They were catching their last glimpse of the sky, and at this rate, it would be a long time before they would see it again.

At last, Thrash only had the two children to lead. He led them out and when they reached the hideout, placed his hands on their heads encouragingly.

"The people here will take care of you," he said, trying to smile. The youngest wiped tears from his eyes and managed a nod. Thrash eyed the older child. "Hey," he said. "You okay? You hear me?" The child looked up at him with hard, empty eyes. Thrash felt a pain in his heart and for a moment felt that he could rip the entire planet of Plutark apart with his bare hands. He patted the boy's shoulder and watched as they slid into the gaping hole. Thrash was left alone.

_**You can try the best you can**_

Thrash got on his bike and rode away, lost in his thoughts. The child's eyes haunted him. Unbidden images of the faces he held dear floated in his mind's eye. Zebbie's eyes, so alight with humor and joy…Graven's eyes, which had held strength and patience. Thrash grimaced. Somewhere, Graven's eyes were still and glazed with death…and Zebbie's?

_**You can try the best you can.**_

Thrash pulled up in front of a narrow mouthed cave. Sliding his bike in, he sat with a grimace against the edge with a sigh and fixed his gaze toward the horizon. Taking a deep breath, he reached in for a small medical kit and absently began untwist the cap that held some medicine that would soothe and heal his injuries. He spilled a few drops on some gauze and held it to his shoulder, wincing as the burn spread through his wound. He returned his gaze toward the skyline, focusing on planning his next raid. But what would happen when there were no more prisons to search? Idly, he reached over and felt around in his small, worn duffel bag and pulled out a well used, army style hat. He fingered it, remembering the day he found it in a pool of blood.

_**The best you can is good enough.**_

_**The best you can is good enough.**_

But was it?

Thrash clenched his fists around the soft hat and, lowering his head, pressed it against his face.

No.


	6. Chapter 6

_Vinnie grunted as he scrambled over the snow dusted rocks. His sharp, knobby knees stuck out of the holes in his jeans, but he was too excited to think about the cold that seeped in. He paused to catch his breath and looked behind him at the girl a few rocks below._

_ "Come on, Ray! What's wrong with you, hurry up!" _

_ "Oh, shut up Vin, I'm the one carrying these stupid garbage can lids!"_

_ "Yeah, well, you lost the bet! Now come on, I wanna have some fun!" Vinnie, despite his impatience, stopped and extended his hand. The young girl shifted the round, plastic lids to one arm and grasped his hand. Together, the children scurried to the peak of the large pile of rocks. Vinnie grinned and Rayna drew in a breath in wonder at the landscape. Standing on top of the peak, they could see slopes covered with snow that sparkled in the sun. Far away, the tops of the short martian trees were delicately outlined by the snow._

_ "Wow, how beautiful," Rayna breathed, her eyes wide. _

_ "Pshaw, who cares about beautiful? This is gonna be fun!" Rayna glanced down at Vinnie, who had taken the lids and was placing them carefully at their feet. Her eyes traveled down the long, rather steep path in front of them. _

_ "Vinnie…are you serious?" _

_ "Come on, it'll be fun! Look, there aren't even any rocks in our way."_

_ "Are you not seeing those boulders there?"_

_ "We can steer around them! Come on, Ray, you never find a path this long that's so clear! You aren't scared are ya?"_

_ "Hmph…no I'm not scared."_

_ "Then come on!" Rayna took a deep breath, and began to smile as excitement welled up in her stomach. Vinnie, who was already grinning, laughed at the look on her face and kept grinning as they both sat down on the lids. _

_ "Ready?"_

_ "Umm…"_

_ "Here we go!" With a whoop that was half yell, half laugh the two of them pushed off and rocketed down the slope. Vinnie was laughing so hard he was nearly crying as they rushed down, spinning and weaving along the path. Vinnie looked around at his friend through his tears. She was laughing as well, her small face creased with her smile. He watched as she spun around backwards so that she faced him, and watched as she got further and further away from him. _

_ Suddenly the scene changed. The white and gray of the surroundings turned red and black. The crunch of snow and laughter of young voices turned into blasts of guns and screams of battle. Rayna's laughing face turned into a look of fear, and instead of sliding down a slope she was plummeting over the edge of a cliff._

_ And Vinnie. Vinnie was screaming her name, reaching down but, without a bike, unable to do anything but cling at air. _

_ She fell further and further away._

_ "No…NO!"_

"No!" Vinnie sat up with a jolt, banging his head on a compartment above his head. Renee looked up, startled, and peered over at him.

"Vinnie? You okay? Bad dream?" she asked, pushing her chair over to him. Vinnie stretched, scrunching his face up at the pain in his back and neck from the position he had fallen asleep in. He rubbed his throbbing head and tried to chuckle.

"Man, I haven't even seen a battle yet and I'm already banged up," he joked. He remembered his dream, and his smile faded. It seemed that deep space would give him no relief from whatever was causing the clear cut memories to emerge in slumber. At least he wasn't getting into other people's heads. Vinnie made a face at himself and Renee studied him, tilting her head to one side.

"What did you dream about?" Not answering, Vinnie rubbed his head and sighed, standing to walk over to the window. He gazed soberly out at the stars, remembering his dream, and with it, remembering his broken promise. It only took a few simple words, one stupid decision…

"_Ray! Hear that? It's a battle! Let's go check it out."_

"_Aw, Vin, I don't know. What if we get in the way? I'd prefer not to die, you know."_

"_You aren't scared, are you? What's there to worry about? I'll protect you. Let's go!"_

"_Well…alright."_

The terrified screams echoed in his ears.

Stupid. Reckless. Vinnie plunged his hands in his pockets, wrapping his fingers around her necklace. _Another failure,_ he thought bitterly before turning back to his redhaired companion. Seeing her concerned look, he mustered up a smile and tried to shrug.

"It's just…going back with the thought of meeting up with people I haven't seen in so long…I keep thinking about the ones who won't be there." Renee shot him a sympathetic look and reached out to touch his hand. Just then, a beeping sound broke the silence, and the two of them jumped, startled. Renee crossed the room and glanced at the screen, a smile breaking over her face.

"We're almost home," she said with a sigh, and turned to gaze out of the window. Straight ahead was Mars, a soft red against the blackness of space. Vinnie joined her and gazed at the planet in awe.

"Wow, it's been awhile since I've seen it from space," he remarked. "Last time I came here it was through a transporter."

"It's still beautiful, even after all this," Renee said quietly. She turned to Vinnie with a confident tilt of her chin. "And it will be even more beautiful someday. You'll see." Vinnie forced a smile at her confidence.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," he said with his cocky grin. Renee smirked at him and turned to sit in the pilot's chair.

"Time to get ready for a landing. Hold on to something, mouse, I don't want you flying through the window," Renee warned, here eyes glued to the screen. Vinnie snickered.

"Especially the way you drive," he teased.

"I'll slap you around for that one later," Renee said without bothering to even look at him. Vinnie laughed and reclined on his bike seat. Thinking about Mars, though, combined with his inability to sit still for more than two minutes forced him to jump back to his feet.

"Man, I can't _wait_ to get in there and whip some tail on those over ripe…whoa!" Vinnie suddenly was cut off as the ship lurched and he was thrown off of his feet. He landed in a heap and winced, rubbing his bum.

"Cheese, Renee, what's wrong with you?"

"Told you I'd slap you around for your smart mouth," she said, shooting a sly glance at him. Vinnie sighed.

"Women," he muttered.

* * *

Carbine stood stiffly, glaring down at her neat stack of papers. The pages illustrated everything from new battle plans to the recent advances of the Plutarkians, but she wasn't really seeing it. She was still fuming over the fact that Stoker, who was slouched casually on a chair nearby, refused to get angry.

"I don't care what reasons she had, stealing from us is unacceptable. If she wants to jump ship on us like her boyfriend, then she needs to go empty handed. He didn't take anything from us," she growled, glancing sharply at Stoker. Stoker hid a smile and shrugged, knowing that the gesture annoyed her to no end.

"Aw, Renee isn't going anywhere for good. She left her bike here. Besides, if she was going to go join Thrash, she wouldn't need a space cruiser to do it."

"I don't care if she's leaving permanently or not! I can't believe she would have the audacity to-!"

"Chill, Carbine, 'audacity' is what defines our group," Stoker said with a laugh. Carbine straightened up at this and placed her hands on her hips.

"So you're completely fine with her stealing a ship," she stated, raising an eyebrow at him. Stoker held up her hands.

"Well, sure, she could have asked. But I think the correct term is borrowed."

"That's right," a new voice said. Both turned to see Renee, leaning against the door frame. She smiled slightly and tossed the power cell of the ship to Carbine. "Stealing is permanent, borrowing implies a speedy return."

"Welcome back, Red," Stoker said, smiling charmingly. Renee winked at him.

"Thanks, Coach. At least someone's glad to see me," she said, turning her gaze to Carbine. Stoker couldn't help but snicker as he sat back to watch the two women eye each other. They were so alike it was hilarious, especially because everyone could see it but them.

"What were you thinking? Stealing a ship like that? I don't care about the terminology; you took Freedom Fighter property without permission."

"This isn't army," Renee replied firmly.

"But there has to be some sort of system to it or it'll fall apart! What if we needed the ship?"

"For what? To take a little stroll in space? I knew you wouldn't use it, and I made sure I was back quickly."

"It still rings of betrayal," Carbine said, and Renee's eyes flashed at the retort. Stoker let out a low whistle.

"Betrayal?" Renee said softly. "No, betrayal is when you informed a fighter who's given his all for this group that you were going to do nothing to help him." There was a brief silence.

"Renee…" Stoker began softly. Renee held up her hand.

"Believe me, I'm aware of the circumstances, but you can't fault me for trying to do something on my own. I found the disc with the names, and now I found some help. And I'm back, aren't I?" Carbine sighed. Though she wouldn't admit it, stress over the war was more responsible for Carbine's anger than Renee's actions. Renee was not traitor material.

"Alright, fine. Where did you go anyway?" Carbine asked, resigned. Renee smiled.

"Well, Throttle sends his love…" she began, but was cut off when Carbine looked up, her eyes flashing. Renee felt a pang in her heart when she saw the expression on her face.

"You brought Throttle?" she asked with a rush of emotion that was unwonted in her voice. Renee winced.

"No, I tried but I couldn't. Actually, I brought…"

Suddenly, she was cut off by a piercing and familiar battle cry accompanied by the roar of a motorcycle. Stoker sat up in his chair.

"You brought him? What on Mars…"

"Honey, I hooome!" the white furred male cried, bursting into the room and skidding to a halt. He whipped off his helmet and performed a few exaggerated bows. "The hero has returned to save the day!"

"You brought the punk to help you find one name among thousands?" Stoker asked, awestruck. For the first time ever, he doubted Renee's intelligence.

"Aw, come on, Old Timer! That's all you have to say to your brightest pupil?" Vinnie crowed. Stoker grinned and got to his feet.

"Extinguish the ego a bit, kid," he said and with a roar lunged at Vinnie. Vinnie shouted in response and soon the two were wrestling roughly with shouts of laughter. Renee and Carbine looked at each other and shook their heads.

"Throttle and Modo didn't come?" Carbine asked, hiding the hurt.

"No, they were concerned about what this Limburger guy would do if they left," Renee said regretfully. Carbine narrowed her eyes but moved on.

"So why Vinnie?" she said, looking down at the hyper mouse.

"I'm just dipping back into history," Renee said with a grin. "I'll handle finding Zebbie, and this guy can find a certain drifter for me." Carbine was about to express her opinion over bringing a valuable fighter across space to haul back a boyfriend, but kept her thoughts to herself. She knew that Renee had some sort of plan cooking, and she also knew how much she wanted to haul Throttle back to Mars. She was about to ask another question when Renee lost her patience.

"Alright, time to break this reunion up," she muttered, approaching the tussle. She waited until Vinnie had straightened up a bit to make her move. She reached down, grabbed him by his bandana and hauled him back. Vinnie yelped at the sudden movement, and grunted when Renee pulled him past her and planted one foot against his chest, shoving him against the wall and pinning him.

"Hello there, remember me?" she asked casually, still in a high kick position. "Hate to cut your reunion short, but we have work to do." From the floor, Stoker broke into laughter over Vinnie's stunned face.

"Look's like she wins, kid," he said, amused. Vinnie colored a bit and muttered under his breath as Renee took her foot away.

"Yeah well, she caught me off guard. What's the deal with pulling on my bandana; you could've busted my windpipe!" Renee snickered over this.

"Yeah, right. Now come on, I want to show you around. You haven't seen this base yet and you should know where everything is. You can wrestle to your heart's content later," she finished with a chuckle. With a nod to both Stoker and Carbine, she strode from the room. Vinnie whistled for his motorcycle to follow and began to leave.

"Tsh, that girl hasn't changed much at all," he grumbled. "See you later, guys. Oh, and Carbine…" he turned toward the gray female. "Throttle really does want to be here. You know that." With that he left, leaving Carbine surprised into silence over Vinnie's sudden insight, and his comment. Stoker rose to his feet and stretched, reflecting that he was getting too old for the rough and tumble deal. He glanced at Carbine and squeezed her shoulder.

"Time keeps going. Soon this will be over. One way or another, anyway," he reminded her, and left her alone to think.

* * *

Vinnie's adrenaline was pumping as they neared the mess hall, still on a high from a reunion with his "coach" and increasingly excited about who he was going to see. He had made good friends during his years with the Freedom Fighters, but nothing could make him forget the friends he had before the war started, and the thought of seeing them again made him have to force himself to stay macho and cool. He glanced at Renee and was suddenly very glad she had dragged him back to Mars.

He was about to say this when they entered the mess hall, and Vinnie promptly forgot her and gazed around. The group gathered was not very large and he immediately spotted familiar faces. Seeing them rooted him to the ground for a moment, striking him into unusual speechlessness. The mouse leaning back in his chair with an eyepatch had helped him pull a prank on a teacher who had gotten them in trouble. The girl twirling her hair and squinting at her blaster had helped him with math on many an occasion. A group of mice, all with various scars and bruises that were laughing together, had all been on his sports team.

"I can't believe it," he breathed, shaking his head. "I know these people." Renee chuckled.

"It's been awhile, Vin," she said, nudging him in the ribs. "Check out the guy in the corner." Vinnie turned to where she was pointing and saw a tall, slim martian mouse sitting alone. His bright yellow hair was ruffled and messy in a familiar way, almost shining against his reddish brown fur. His deep blue eyes were narrowed as he studied whatever was spread out on the table.

"Johnny!" Vinnie suddenly called, and the mouse in question looked up, startled. Vinnie grinned when their eyes met, and Johnny's mouth dropped open.

"Vinnie?!" he exclaimed, shocked into vocalization. Vinnie bounded over to the mouse, not noticing that nearly everyone else had looked over.

"Hey bro! How's it hanging?" Vinnie crowed, leaning against the table and folding his arms. Johnny sat back in his chair, looking up at him in bewilderment.

"You…you're alive? What…how…?"

"Still a mouse of few words, aren't ya?" he joked, tickled at the reaction he was getting. Johnny still looked aghast as Vinnie plopped down in front of him.

"But…but where have you been? You disappeared after the war started…and then a few years ago I started hearing rumors about how you were dead," Johnny stated, his eyes still wide.

"But you didn't hear rumors about my amazing skills and fame? Sheesh, where have _you_ been is the question." Boastingly, he told of how he ended up with Throttle and Modo and outlined their exploits on Mars and Earth. As he spoke, he was aware of a crowd of mice around him. He finished his story and grinned around at them, and was soon encompassed in exclamations of surprise and warm greetings.

_Man,_ Vinnie thought, enjoying their surprise and attention. _This is the life!_

He hardly noticed Johnny as the group settled around him, for the mouse had shrunk back quietly and returned to his work. He would have remained unnoticed if one mouse, an old acquaintance from grade school, made a startling comment.

"Dude, still can't believe that you're here. Heck, after Rayna died, you just ran off and nobody's heard a peep about you since."

Vinnie froze, the smile fading quickly from his face.

"Yeah, the only people who seemed to know anything were Thrash and that big extended family of his, but they didn't say a word."

Vinnie began to feel that the room was getting warmer.

"Yeah," piped up another voice. "What really happened, anyway?"

Claustrophobia seemed to set in. Vinnie cleared his throat and tried to muster up his bravado, but the words just wouldn't come.

"Vinnie." Vinnie blinked and looked up at the voice, which sounded quiet and firm at the same time. Johnny had risen to his feet and was gazing mildly at him. "Why don't you come see the project Carbine and I have been working on? You may be interested."

"Aw, Johnny, no one cares about your stupid plants," someone complained. Johnny didn't flinch, but waited calmly for Vinnie's response.

"Sure, I'll go," Vinnie said, grasping at the opportunity. "I think Renee wanted to show me around anyway. But hey, I'm not disappearing this time; I'll be back for dinner!" The group nodded and murmured their goodbyes, slowly drifting away and returning to their tables.

Vinnie strode behind Johnny, only letting his grinning face relax once they had left the room. He glanced questioningly at the quiet mouse, wondering if Johnny was really that perceptive or just had a thing for plants.

"Uh, Johnny, I…" Vinnie trailed off, still finding it awkward to speak to the mouse. Johnny smiled, and Vinnie reflected that he had seldom seen the mouse smile before.

"It's okay. Some people can be insensitive. Anyway, you don't…you don't have to come if you don't want to. It was just an excuse," Johnny said with a shrug. Vinnie doubted he'd find much to be interested in, but decided to return Johnny's favor.

"Sure, I'll go with you," Vinnie said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "You have me curious. I was wondering what you were doing here the moment I saw you. I never took you for the fighting type."

"I'm not," Johnny said, resuming his walk and leading Vinnie through a corridor. "I didn't join the resistance until recently. I was fighting my own war, in a way. Ever since Plutark started stripping Mars of plants and trees, I started traveling all over the place, collecting seeds and trying to preserve what I could. If we ever win this war, we won't make it very long without a stable environment. I discovered the garden that Carbine had started, and realized that I could help. And now…well, just take a look."

Throughout the entirety of Johnny's explanation, which is the longest Vinnie had ever heard the mouse speak; they had been walking through corridors and down a cool, dark staircase. Now, Johnny opened a door and Vinnie, to his surprise, beheld a large room filled with plants.

Rows of tables stood in the center of the room, and on then were plants of various shapes, colors, and sizes. Little lights shone above the plants and every so often a brief, tiny spray of water—very brief, as water was precious—would mist through the room. The air itself was moist and warm.

Vinnie wandered through the rows silently, surprised that Johnny had managed to do this on his own. How did he ever find out about all this stuff?

"These are the hardiest plants," Johnny said, gesturing around the room. "They're also the most practical. They have actually helped a lot. Some plants are very nutritious, and we can put the pods and leaves in stews to eat here. Others can be used to heal wounds." Vinnie watched as Johnny carefully slit open a large, bulging pod. A thick, green liquid oozed out onto his finger. "This has cleaned and healed many a blaster wound."

"I see why they keep you around," Vinnie chuckled, hands on his hips. "Where'd you learn all this?" Johnny rubbed the plant's gel between his fingers thoughtfully and looked off into space.

"It's funny," he mused softly. "I've always wondered why my life had to be the way it was when I was growing up. See, I was alone Vinnie. My parents died when I was very young, and foster family the system found for me was…well, not pleasant to say the least. I ran away and wandered around ever since. It was pure luck that I managed to get into school and score some shelter and a couple of free meals a day." He smiled wryly. "I think it was the secret that everyone sort of knew, but I'm glad now that no one did anything about it." Vinnie nodded, his thoughts going back to what Thrash had said so many years ago.

"But I'm thankful that I went through all that. I wouldn't have known a thing about plants or survival in general if I hadn't, and now I can help. So it's good," Johnny finished with a slight smile. Vinnie clapped him on the shoulder.

"Well, good then," he said a little ineptly. Feeling as if he had seen enough of the plants and not enough action, Vinnie made his way toward the door. Johnny reached out and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"You know, Vinnie, I never forgot how kind you and your friends were to me," Johnny said with a sad smile. "You were the only ones. I'm really hoping that Thrash is able to find Zebbie and…and have some peace."

Vinnie blinked, gazing at Johnny with surprise. That simple gesture of friendship Thrash had made when he invited him to their campfire…that was really the only kindness he had ever received? Vinnie suddenly felt a swift sense of comradeship with this strange, quiet martian.

"Me too, bro," he said with a firm nod. "Me too."

* * *

Miles away, through the deserts and over arching mountains stood a large, square building, nestled into a clearing surrounded by cliffs. The building was dark and foreboding, and indeed it should seem so, for evil went on inside. Mice that were marched in rarely marched out.

Strangely, the figure being prodded in at the moment was not a mouse as one might expect, but a rat, bound and gagged and decidedly angry. The Plutarkians that flanked him pulled him to a stop and faced a sentry.

"Newcomer?" the guard said suspiciously, his eyes raking over the dark furred rat.

"Mmm, yes. You might have heard of him. This was the fool who allowed our Information Center to be infiltrated. He just stood trial and received his conviction."

"Ha! Good, take him to be recorded and branded. If he wants to help the mice then he can be treated like the mice," the guard declared, laughter gurgling in his throat. The rat angrily attempted to protest, but the gags made it impossible and the Plutarkians shoved him forward.

Down they marched through the narrow, slippery corridors. A heavy stench hung in the air, the innate smell of Plutarkians mingled with a smell of sickness and decay. In the cells, prisoners lay silently, some hovering between life and death. The rat's eyes raked over them scornfully, taking in one prisoner who was chained by the neck like an animal. The thought that he, a rat, was to be treated like the skinny scum that lay chained before him!

But alas, he was forced to go through it all, the humiliating branding, the incessant questions of name and background. For some reason they insisted on chronicling it, as if anyone would ever care to know who lived and died in this cesspool.

Soon, he had his own cell, and when his chains were removed and the door slammed with a sharp finality, he ripped the gags off and howled with rage.

"I'm no traitor, you sack of scales!" the rat bellowed. "I've spent half my life helping you—oof!" The rat choked and stumbled, and the Plutarkian withdrew the electric rod with a cackle.

"Better learn to keep quiet, rodent," the Plutarkian sneered. The rat glowered from the floor and the Plutarkian waddled away with a chuckle. The rat pressed up against the wall and rubbed the wound on his stomach. _They could all rot! _he thought darkly. _The slime balls don't know who they're dealing with._ He hated them, the fish who had once given him rank and prestige, or at least a promise of it. To be the guard at the high security Information Center on Mars! And now…now he was sitting in a rotten cell. Yes, he despised them.

But most of all, he despised _her_.

That mouse, tall and curvy, wearing her tight clothes and high heels. She had sashayed right up to the door of the center, smiling confidently. She was an entertainer, she had told him, who worked exclusively for the Plutarkian leaders on Mars. Unfortunately, she had forgotten her identification.

Normally, he wouldn't let a desert flea past the gates of the building. But her…that little witch with the alluring eyes and the flaming hair who had smiled so cunningly and had promised him his own reward if he let her by…he had given in to _her_, watching in awe as she winked and walked right past him.

Minutes later, their leader was dead—impaled by a stiletto—and several discs containing their most top secret information was stolen, with only a trail of destruction left behind. And then, as the rat watched in great dismay, the entire place went up in a burst of flames and smoke.

As for the rat, well, instead of that "reward" he had been promised, he had gotten a one way ticket to prison.

The rat clenched his fists, anger and hatred pouring through every vein. He would kill her. Someday, somehow, he would get out and he would rip her apart. But first, he would watch her suffer…oh yes, he would fill that conniver with anguish and then…then…he would destroy her.

The rat growled, and several corridors over a young mouse shifted the chain around his neck and coughed.

* * *

"Someone's thinking about you," Vinnie said, pointing across the table. Renee looked up from the computer.

"Huh?"

"Your ear itched. That means someone's thinking about you," Vinnie replied with a grin, and leaned back in his chair. Renee scratched her ear again and smirked.

"Well, let's hope they're thinking good thoughts."


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N. Sorry for the wait. Jaws doesn't belong to me, and neither does Biker Mice...don't believe I mentioned that! Also, it was stated before that this follows The Searcher but there's a bit here that will make more sense if Something Beautiful, a oneshot, is read. It's not essential, but it might help a part in this make more sense. Happy Reading!**

* * *

_Bounce. Bounce._

"Vinnie."

"What?"

_Bounce. Bounce._

"In another minute I'm going to take that ball and stuff it in your ears."

_Bounce._

Renee eyed the white mouse as he caught the ball one last time and looked at her angelically. When she shook her head returned her gaze to the computer screen, Vinnie heave a gusty sigh and hurled the ball against the wall.

"Renee…I'm so bo-o-ored!" Vinnie whined, stretching out the words like a rubber band. Renee rubbed her temples.

"Go search out a new canyon to break your neck on," Renee said sarcastically.

"I did that this morning…well, I mean, I didn't break my neck _of course_, but I did pull off some amazing moves!" Vinnie boasted with a grin.

"Mmph. Good. So go do that again," Renee said absently. Vinnie made a face and tilted his chair back.

"Ugh, it's been done. Sheesh, Renee, I thought you said you were fighting for your lives everyday here! We get more action back on Earth," Vinnie grumbled, picking up the small ball and tossing it from hand to hand.

"Vinnie, you've barely been here one day. It's just a quiet day, relax."

"Figures, the minute I get here all the action goes away."

"Vinnie, find something to do or I'll give you some action," Renee threatened, eyes still fixed to the computer screen.

"Really…?" Vinnie said with an evil grin, waggling his eyebrows. Renee froze, looked at him levelly, and coolly shoved his chair over with her foot. She allowed herself a small smile at the satisfying crash and startled yelp that followed.

"Ouch, Renee, break my head why don't ya!" Vinnie called from the floor.

"It's not like much would change if I did," she retorted, pulling up a new window on the computer. "Man, how does Charley _deal_ with you everyday?"

"Easy, she gives us something to do," Vinnie said, picking himself up. "Ugh, I just want to blast some…"

A siren suddenly wailed through the room, cutting off Vinnie's complaint. Vinnie cheered and Renee groaned as a voice crackled over the intercom.

"Attention, attention. All Fighters prepare for attack. Refuge 234 has just been attacked. Civilians involved. Report immediately to Refuge 234!"

"Aoowhowhow, now we're talking!" Vinnie shouted, eagerly leaping onto his bike, which he had insisted on parking in the same room. Renee slid her computer into a desk drawer and carefully locked it.

"It might not be as fun as you think. Refuge areas are caves or holes where people who have been displaced gather to hide for safety. A lot of people can die if we mess this up and—!"

"What?! The Vin-man _never_ messes up! Time to burn some good ol' Martian soil!" With a squeal of his tires, Vinnie rocketed away, leaving Renee coughing as the 'good ol' Martian soil' was kicked up in her face. Grumbling she strolled out the door, heading for her own bike.

"Wonder how long it's going to take him to realize he has no clue where he's going," Renee muttered, brushing the dust from her face. "Men!"

Vinnie burst out into the open, punching the air as his bike flew over the ground and landed smoothly. He leaned into his bike and zoomed ahead, loving the feeling of adrenaline pumping through his veins. The past day and a half had been increasingly dull, so the action was a welcome break…not that action was ever unwelcome in Vinnie's eyes.

"Hey, Sparkplug, slow down!" Renee yelled, pulling alongside him in her own, sleek red and black racer.

"Slow down isn't a phrase that this speed demon comprehends!" Vinnie hooted.

"How does 'listen to my directions before I pound your face in' sound?" Renee shot back. Vinnie crowed gleefully, throwing his head back to laugh.

"Oh, _man,_ is this lady on fire or what? Speak up, babe, I'm all ears." Renee rolled her eyes but couldn't stay mad at him for his exuberance. It was somewhat refreshing after the hours of strain and disappointment.

Quickly, she gave him directions on how to get to the Refuge and then peeled away, going back to make sure that the other Freedom Fighters were following. Vinnie gunned forward, disregarding her order to use caution. Caution? Vinnie? Please.

"Man, I was born for this!" Vinnie shouted, feeling a little disappointed beneath his excitement over the fact that his bros were not riding with him. He was almost startled when he didn't hear Modo's deep laugh and accompanying retorts, or Throttle's wit and shouted orders. Feeling a bit lonely, he managed to restrain himself so that the others could keep up, and though it wasn't the same, it was better than riding alone.

"Alright," Renee called over the roaring engines. "No need to be subtle because it's almost impossible to attack under cover. Better to just fly in and start shooting. Be very careful not to hit the civilians. Everyone got it?"

"Sure, Boss," a voice yelled, and the others chuckled, plainly amused by Renee's automatic assumption of leadership. Renee ignored them and turned toward Vinnie.

"You hear me, Hotshot?"

"You bet, babe!"

Soon, they arrived at a sharp slope, and below them they could plainly see a cluster of mice trying to defend themselves against both Plutarkians and Sand Raiders. It was clear that the Martian civilians were getting the worst of it, and some were already huddled in what appeared to be a cage on wheels. Renee pulled out one of the huge guns she always toted.

"Ready?" she called. "Let's…"

"Let's rock and ride!" Vinnie interrupted, cheering not just for himself but for his bros back on Earth. Renee looked at him surprised, but the phrase was catchy and it gave the fighters the adrenaline rush they needed to hurl themselves into the fray.

Vinnie swerved and ducked, implementing his fanciest moves and most skillful maneuvers. Somersaults, swerves, and perfect wheelies were all in his repertoire. He sent vehicles spinning and the occupants hurtling through the air. Seeing a small row of vehicles coming for them, he slowed and grinned.

"Hey, Throttle, how about we…" Vinnie trailed off, remembering with a sudden rush of clarity that his bros were not there. His surprise caused him to freeze for a moment.

"Vinnie, watch it!" Renee suddenly cried. Vinnie snapped to attention long enough to duck a blaster shot, but he was forced to wrench his bike out of the way. He drew in his breath as the oncoming vehicle clipped his leg, resulting in a rush of pain. Vinnie whipped out his blaster and fired before the vehicle could turn in pursuit. Pushing the incident from his mind, his adrenaline pumping more than ever, he threw himself into the fray once more.

It wasn't long before the battle began to wane, and the remaining Plutarkians and Sand Raiders began to beat a hasty retreat. Vinnie fired a shot and hit one fleeing Plutarkian square in the behind, laughing when the fish howled and began to run even faster. A waiting mouse caught him and took him into custody and, all too soon for Vinnie, the battle was over.

"Ha, that was awesome!" Vinnie cried, raising both fists in the air. Renee slid down from her bike and tore off her helmet.

"Yeah, until you nearly got yourself killed," Renee said, her ruby eyes flashing. Vinnie looked down at his leg and saw that his pant leg was ripped and the fur below burnt and reddened.

"Aw, just a little scratch," Vinnie said, wincing as he touched the wound.

"Nevertheless, have Johnny take a look at it when we get back." Vinnie nodded at her advice and poked at the wound. He glanced up as Renee began to walk away and studied her quizzically.

"Hey, Renee, didn't you have a little fun?" Vinnie ventured to ask. Renee looked over her shoulder and smirked, raising a curved brow.

"Of course," she said and twirled her gun before pocketing it and striding toward the civilians.

Vinnie chuckled and shook his head, but then sobered as he looked at the bedraggled crowd. They were shaken but immensely relieved, and some of them were chattering with the fighters, as if drinking in a glimpse of the outside world. The previously imprisoned martians rushed out joyfully and fell into the arms of family and friends. Vinnie smiled but felt a little sad. He wasn't used to seeing the effects of the war on Mars, at least not lately. He much preferred the Earth ritual of destroying the bad guys and heading home to some grub.

Vinnie restrained a passing fighter, who looked down and grinned.

"Vin, you were amazing out there? Where did you learn all of those moves?"

"Oh, pure skill, I was just born with it. Hey, where are all these martians from?" Vinnie asked, gesturing at the group. The fighter studied them and shrugged.

"All over, I guess. Some might have come from your district, Vinnie. I remember hearing that the survivors were directed to come to this Refuge."

Vinnie nodded and said nothing, and the martian strode away. His town?

_"So you're leaving me."_

A raspy voice, thick with drink and tears.

_"Everyone's left me. Just like Tread."_

Vinnie took his helmet off and turned it around once or twice in his hands, summoning his courage. It was easy to sail in a smash a bunch of enemy fighters, but this…this was something that Modo or Throttle could do with ease. Not Vinnie.

With a deep breath he stood and hesitantly approached the crowd. Clearing his throat, he raised his voice so that all could hear.

"Hey, everyone…uh, my name's Vinnie and…um, I was wondering, does anyone know a woman named Shandria? She would be an older woman with white fur like me. She use to have brown hair too, but maybe it's gray…she might be staying with a lady named Dianthia…" The crowd murmured but looked blank and Vinnie felt foolish.

"Alright, no problem. Ride free, citizens," he said lamely, but the words that were so triumphant on Earth seemed hollow here, where the civilians could hardly leave the safety of their cave, much less 'ride free'.

He avoided Renee's eyes as he settled on his bike, for he did not want to see the compassion or questioning that was most likely there. Wanting very much to get out and regain his self-assurance, he revved his bike and prepared to leave.

"Wait!" called a small voice. Vinnie paused, wondering if the command was meant for him. He glanced briefly over at the group then looked again, wondering about the small body struggling through the group of adults. Suddenly, a young boy surged out into the open, stumbling from the effort. The boy panted a bit, his eyes searching anxiously through the faces of the Freedom Fighters.

Vinnie's jaw dropped and he rose from his bike. The figure looked strikingly like…like…

Zebbie.

"Can't be," Vinnie murmured, and hearing the sound of his voice, the youth turned and locked eyes with the white mouse. His eyes widened and he began to walk hesitantly closer to Vinnie. As he neared, Vinnie could see that the boy was clearly too young to be Zebbie, and though he shared the same fine, yellowish hair and reddish-brown fur, his eyes were silver gray instead of bright blue.

_A small boy, a laughing smile stretching his chubby, babyish face, hurled himself into Vinnie's stomach, demanding the attention of his hero._

"Mackie," Vinnie breathed, the realization astounding him. He felt Renee draw close but barely noticed. The boy, suddenly shy, held back, his sad, narrow face looking uncertain. He poked at the dirt with his bare foot and glanced up from under his thatch of blonde hair.

"Uh…are you…you're Vinnie, right?" he whispered. Vinnie grinned and dropped down on one knee, spreading his arms wide.

"Mackie?! Well, c'mere kid!" Vinnie shouted happily. A relieved grin flooded Mackie's face as he hurled himself against Vinnie's chest, wrapping his skinny arms around his neck. Vinnie held him tightly, feeling his throat tighten. Strange that he had forgotten all about his little admirer. If Mackie was here alone, then what had happened to Dianthia, Cannon, his mother? What about…?

"Theresa? Is that you?" Renee suddenly asked in astonishment. Vinnie looked up to see a skinny, quite gangly girl who looked like the pre-adolescent female version of Thrash. She pushed her short, pixie style hair out of her face and narrowed her dark brown eyes.

"Renee! Vinnie?!" she squawked, her eyes widening and a smile breaking over her face. With a squeal she threw herself at Renee, nearly knocking the woman off of her feet. Renee clung to her, shock written across her face. Though she did not say it and had clung to the hope that their loved ones had evacuated, she had clearly assumed the girl to be dead and Mackie along with her. Vinnie gave a shout of laughter and was so excited that he wrapped one arm around Renee and one around Mackie and Theresa, so that all were engulfed in a group hug. Then, realizing how un-macho the act could be perceived, he pulled back with a cough.

"Sheesh, kid, what happened to the lil' six year old I left behind?" Vinnie said with a chuckle, ruffling Mackie's hair.

"Well, Vinnie, you see that's sort of the way organic bodies work. We all grow up," Theresa said sarcastically, flipping her hair out of her face and shooting Vinnie a mischievous look. Vinnie's mouth dropped open.

"Whoa, look who got all wise and witty on me. What about you, Theresa, are you still breaking everything in sight?" Vinnie teased, reaching over to tweak her nose.

"No, I just break hearts now," Theresa said loftily, lifting her chin in mock arrogance. Vinnie laughed and Renee groaned.

"Oh, no, one Vinnie is quite enough for me," she said, her hand over her eyes.

"Babe, there can't be enough of me!" Vinnie said confidently, and Renee was about to retort when Vinnie looked down, distracted by the tug on his hand.

"Vinnie," Mackie said, clinging to his hand with both of his and looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Please…you aren't going to leave us here, are you? I-I thought you were dead. You left so long ago and no one knew where you went. I…I missed you and…everyone else is…I just want to go with you. Please," Mackie stammered, lowering his head. Vinnie looked up from Mackie and met Renee's eyes. Theresa lost the light, joking look on her face, revealing the scared child that hid beneath that exterior.

"Yeah…I want to go with you too. The Plutarkians came and…well, everyone is gone. My mom and Aunt Dianthia are probably in some prison…Uncle Cannon is…"

"He died trying to hide me," Mackie whispered. Silence descended on the group. Renee surveyed the children and gazed over at the Freedom Fighters, who were watching and waiting patiently. The refugees had mostly returned to their cave, but a few were left, waiting to see what unfolded.

"Carbine would have forty fits if we brought these kids to a military base," Renee said quietly. Vinnie raised an eyebrow.

"When did we become military?" he whispered back. Renee chuckled, but ended it in a sigh.

"Well…alright. Carbine is a softie under all that tough girl crap," Renee said with a shrug. Theresa leaped in the air and cheered, and Mackie simply breathed a sigh of relief that seemed to come from the soles of his bare feet. Vinnie smiled gently at him, noting that his head was still lowered. He suddenly remembered Dianthia's habit of tilting the chins of her children up so that she could see their eyes. Vinnie could never pull off such a loving, parental touch, but he reached down and chucked Mackie's chin up a bit, giving his own version of the gesture. Mackie looked up, surprised.

"Chin up, kid, you're with the baddest mammajamma in the universe now! It's time to have some _fun_!"

"Yay! I was so bored!" Theresa piped up, and Renee groaned inwardly again.

"Maybe you and Vinnie can entertain each other," she said wryly. Vinnie gave a shout of laughter.

"So let's blow this joint then! Do you have to pack?" he asked. Mackie and Theresa shot him funny looks.

"Pack what?" Theresa asked, tilting her head. Vinnie was about to clarify, but then caught Renee's eye. He read the meaning and felt foolish. Of course they had nothing; they barely escaped with their lives. He remained quiet, and Theresa forgot his question in her desire to quickly say goodbye to those who had cared for her.

The Freedom Fighters headed home as Renee and Vinnie prepared to leave. After making sure that the refugees were safely in their hideout and that all the goodbyes had been said, Vinnie sat Mackie behind him carefully, instructing him to hold on tight.

"Can't wait to see Thrash!" Theresa shouted over the noise of the engines as the bikes took off. Vinnie and Renee exchanged worried looks, and Vinnie was further dismayed when Mackie spoke quietly.

"I want to see Graven and Zebbie. I'll finally feel like I'm part of a real family again. I haven't felt like that since my parents...well, never mind." With a sigh of contentment, Mackie leaned against Vinnie and watched the landscape rush by.

Vinnie said nothing, but when he wrapped his tail around Mackie, ostensibly to keep him from falling, it was more out of compassion than protection.

* * *

Several million miles away, Throttle gritted his teeth in pain as Charley wrapped an ace bandage around his leg. Charley sucked the air in between her teeth and looked at Throttle sympathetically.

"That burn is nasty," she said, trying to be as gentle as possible. Throttle nodded wordlessly, still surprised that the laser managed to find its target. Charley patted his leg and looked over at Modo.

"How's your side?" she asked, glancing him over before packing up her first aide kit. Modo held up the compress that she had given him earlier and smiled.

"Doin' fine, Charley ma'am, thanks," he said kindly. Charley nodded and slid the first aide kit in the cabinet.

"What happened out there? I haven't seen you this banged up in awhile," Charley mused, pulling four frosty root beers from the fridge. She kept one for herself and gave two to Throttle and Modo, then looked down with surprise at the extra. Flushing with embarrassment and feeling a swift stab of longing, she put the extra root beer away and hoped no one noticed.

"Aw, Limburger came back nastier than ever. His Tower still isn't rebuilt so the attack itself wasn't all that bad, but…" Throttle trailed off and shrugged.

"Kinda miss the crazy kid more than I thought," Modo admitted for both of them, tipping back his root beer.

"I just keep expecting him to be there, so I call out plans and look over…oh well, this was our first time fighting without him. We'll get the hang of it," Throttle said confidently. Charley looked down at her root beer and nodded wordlessly. Strange how much she missed her wild friend. Never had silence seemed so…so loud.

"Wonder how he's doing?" Throttle asked, picturing himself in Mars, riding along with Carbine.

"Heh heh, you know he's gettin' into all sorts of trouble," chuckled Modo. Charley forced a laugh.

"He's probably dating half of Mars by now," she said, striving to sound nonchalant. Throttle looked at her keenly, as if able to pierce her thoughts and read them. Charley looked away.

"Well, you know, we might be able to find out," Throttle said, draining the last of his root beer. "I was tinkering with our vid-com last night, trying to get it back in working condition. The thing falls apart more often that Limburger's Tower. Let's say we turn it on and see if he comes a-calling," Throttle suggested. Modo nodded in agreement and Charley shrugged.

Throttle pulled the large screen closer to the table and fumbled with the intricate collection of wires. Connecting everything carefully, he switched it on, joyful that it actually worked. He tapped a red light.

"When this thing blinks, then we'll know someone's trying to call," Throttle explained. He and Modo exchanged glances and looked over to Charley, who was lost in thought. Suddenly, Modo reached out and covered Charley's clasped hands with his own.

"He'll call, Charley ma'am. He'll call."

* * *

Vinnie wandered slowly to the control room, his head lowered and his heart hurting. Seeing the look on Mackie's face when he and Renee gently broke the news that one brother was dead and the other was imprisoned was more difficult than he had imagined. He had never seen hope just drain from a person's face before the way it drained from Mackie. The light in his eyes dimmed, the smile faded, and his whole stature seemed to shrink.

Theresa was different. Her bubbly excitement was replaced not with quiet dejection but with angry tears. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, her whole body seeming to tremble with rage. Renee explained several times that Thrash was almost certain to be alive and that he was searching for Zebbie, but Theresa hardly cared.

"Vinnie," she had said, grabbing his hand as he was about to leave. He had looked down at her small face, watching her valiant attempt to keep her tears in check. "Find him. Please. Find Thrash and…just find him."

So he had promised her that he would do so, and breaking promises was not something Vinnie was in the market for.

Well, not intentionally.

Vinnie sighed and looked up at the large, dark screen in front of him. He tilted his head curiously as he looked at the controls and buttons. Understanding dawned on his face, as well as a great idea.

"Yo, Mackie!" he called, turning to lean into the hallway. "You want to see something awesome?"

Charley almost didn't hear the beeping sound or see the light over the noise of the movie that was blaring from the television. She had just gotten up to get some more snacks for Throttle and Modo, who were engrossed in _Jaws_ ("Look at the size of that shark!" "Bro, I'm _never_ going swimming in this place") when her eye caught a flash of red near the vidcom. Nearly dropping the entire bowlful of popcorn, she raced over to the couch.

"Guys, guys, the vid-com is beeping!" she exclaimed, inexplicably nervous. Throttle stood and vaulted over the couch. The three of them crowded around the small screen as Throttle reached out and pressed a button. With a flicker, Vinnie's face, though a bit blurry at times, filled the screen. Charley tried to restrain the wide grin that spread across her face.

"Bro!" Throttle exclaimed, reaching out to touch the screen. "'Bout time you showed up!"

"Well, I had things to do, places to see, Plutarkian butts to whip," Vinnie said, the sound of his voice crackling over the static filled speakers. "You been holding down the fort without me?"

"Sure, no problem," Throttle said, glad Vinnie couldn't see his leg.

"We can handle it," Modo said, angling away just in case Vinnie could see his side.

"Ha, I hear ya. Well, don't get too used to being a duo," Vinnie said cheerfully. Catching sight of Charley, he winked. "Hey babe! Miss me?"

"Like a bad cold," Charley said dryly, but her eyes flickered up quickly, judging his reaction. Vinnie laughed and clutched his chest.

"Ow, you wound me, sweetheart! Oh, hey, stay in focus for a sec, Charley babe." Vinnie turned and gestured, and then reappeared with a small figure. "Say hi to the camera!" Vinnie said to the boy.

"Wait," Throttle said, peering closer. "That's not…you didn't find…?"

"No, this isn't Zebbie," Vinnie interjected. "This is Mackie, the youngest of the clan. I stumbled across him this afternoon." Charley regarded him warmly, feeling a pang over the solemnity etched in the young boy's face.

"I told Mackie that he could see a real, live human," Vinnie said mischievously. "I figured that I should show him the best of what Earth has to offer, right sweetheart?"

"That's unusually sweet of you," Charley replied, blushing. Vinnie winked in return and chatted a bit about what he had seen, who he had reunited with, and what their home had become since they had left.

Finally, Vinnie ducked down and said something quietly to Mackie. The boy, who hadn't said a word the whole time, managed a smile and a wave, and then soundlessly left. Vinnie watched him go and turned back to the group with a sigh.

"Yo, Vin? This thing is starting to break up…you might want to say goodbye for now until it gets some juice back," Throttle advised.

"Oh, right…uh…" Vinnie trailed off, and then suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Uh, bros, would you mind…Charley…can I…?" Modo straightened, holding back a laugh.

"We'll say our goodbyes now. Take care of yourself, bro. Don't do anything too crazy," Modo cautioned. "You make sure to tell Rimfire that his uncle says hi."

"Will do…well, I don't know about the crazy part. I make no promises," Vinnie returned.

"Tell Carbine I'll try to call when this thing starts working better, and stay outta trouble," Throttle added. With that, the two turned and left the room, leaving Charley alone. She looked at them and then back at the screen, comprehension dawning.

"Uh, hey Vin," she greeted awkwardly. Vinnie tried to smile and ended up chuckling nervously.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said softly, and ducked his head endearingly. "I just…well, I wanted to say that though I'm having loads of fun and can't get enough of ripping around here and meeting up with old friends…I kinda…well, I kinda wish Mars and Earth were a little closer."

"One hundred million miles isn't exactly a stroll down the block," Charley agreed, leaning closer. Vinnie managed a laugh.

"Yeah, tell me about it. Anyway…I, well, I miss ya sweetheart. And…well I wanted to say that I'm going to be leaving for awhile, the base I mean. I have to take a trip and I'm not sure when I'll get back or when we can talk. Heck, I don't know what's going to happen at all, actually."

"Vinnie, what are you saying? Is something wrong?" Charley asked, fighting a spike of panic.

"So in case I can't talk to you for awhile or something like that…I just…I just wanted to…" Static filled the speakers.

"Vinnie? Vin, you're breaking up, I can't hear."

"I think…yo…" Only snatches of voice as Vinnie's face began to fade.

"Vinnie? Vinnie, speak up!"

"I…"

"_What?_"

"I…ugh!" Vinnie yelled at the blank screen. No response, the transmission had cut off. "Argh!" Vinnie slammed his fists down on the table before him. He shot out of his seat was about to bellow every swear word he knew from both Mars and Earth until he saw Theresa and Mackie, standing at the doorway staring at him.

"Um…just wanted to say goodnight…" Theresa said hesitantly. Vinnie drew in his breath, summoned every spare jot of patience, and fastened on a smile.

"Night, guys," he said. "I'll wake you before I go tomorrow." He watched them leave the room, and then his smiled dropped as he turned to the silent vid-com. He let out a gusty sigh and shook his head.

"Goodnight, Charley-girl."


End file.
